


Cleaning up Heroes

by Little_sparrow



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-16
Updated: 2013-12-07
Packaged: 2017-12-29 14:20:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 58,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1006440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_sparrow/pseuds/Little_sparrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are more members of The Avengers Team, than what first appears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> We do not own anything related to Marvel and the Avengers, or any other related franchises. We only claim rights to all original characters and writing/story-line.
> 
> This is going to be a very long piece of work written with my sister. Mostly, these stories have been inspired by sheer boredom, and written for each other's enjoyment (because yes, we do actually get along). Excuse the bad grammar/spelling at times... neither she nor I are exactly experts in that area.... put it this way, she's an artist, and I'm a student who continually gets picked up on spelling "a lot" as one word! :P
> 
> We plan to have our two separate stories about the Avengers join up, and have written whole sections on our own. You'll figure out when they link up... we've made it pretty obvious. 
> 
> Be warned: our writing stiles are extremely different, as such, events and perspectives will clearly be described and written differently, both because we're different authors, and because we're writing two different characters. 
> 
> Hope you guys get as much enjoyment from reading this as we do. 
> 
> As always, if you like this even slightly, please leave some kind of feed-back. :) Because, if you guys don't really like this, then we probably won't bother putting up anymore. 
> 
> Anyways, enjoy! :)

“Ok, sure thing. I’ll see you soon.” I hung up my phone, and put it into the pocket of my daggy jeans. I looked up, checking the busy road before I stepped out from the cement curb. It was a surprisingly nice day in New York, the sun shining between the tall grey, city skyscrapers, and seeing a gap in the continual peek hour traffic, I wove my way through the bumper to bumper cars, headed towards the general store two blocks down from the café I had been eating in. I crossed to the other side of the street safely and turned towards the shops. 

However, I did not get the chance to buy the milk and bread my roommate Caroline had asked me to get on my way home. Because the next few seconds were all a blur of noise and heat, as a sudden and violent explosion from the pavement I’d just left sent a wave of fire, and fragments of cement, metal and glass directly towards me. My eye’s widened, and I felt a scream leave my lips, as another explosion nano-seconds apart from the first and only meters away, ripped apart the side of another building. I had no time to react, I barely had time to register what was happening, and I should have died. 

The waves of fire engulfed me from two different directions, and deflected by an enormous metal shield rolled over and around me. I became aware that I was crouching down, and that a powerfully large body tightly encircled me. I had no idea how or when that had happened. Any logical thought about what was happening was pushed to the back of my mind, as a third blast of fire and debris erupted from behind us. In one fluid movement, faster than what I had thought physically possible, the stranger swivelled us around so that again we were shielded, and the blazing inferno quickly passed. 

And then I was standing up, or more accurately being lifted to standing position. My mouth dropped as I surveyed my surroundings, the smell of smoke and dust filled my nose and lungs, my ears were ringing from the impact of the three different blasts and my eyes watered. I was standing amidst what looked like a battle field. Cars were dented and some, pushed to the side were even burning. Two skyscrapers were missing half the front of their buildings, and shrapnel and rubble was scattered everywhere, not a window, not a building had been left untouched. 

My immediate thought was concerning all of the people who had been driving those now burning cars, I was a trained nurse and in-training doctor, so I was thankful when I saw the majority of drivers opening up their car doors. The once busy street was quickly emptied, as within second everyone had ran, wildly screaming away from the post-apocalypse looking area. 

All of a sudden the ringing in my ears stopped and my hearing came back to me. My attention was directed to the incredibly tall man who was gently shaking, and talking to me. I managed to catch the last few words he’d been saying. 

“You’ll be all right mam’.” He said reassuringly in a deep, American accent.   
His intense and deep blue eyes held my startled green pair for just a moment. He lifted his right arm up to brush some of my loose nut-meg brown coloured hair from my forehead, and then cleared his throat.  
“Help will be here shortly.”

And just like that he let go of me, and turning around, ran with long, powerfully built bounds out of the burning street, so that he looked almost like a moving blue blur. He was gone within seconds. Like nothing had happened. Except something had.

I could hear the wail of sirens in the distance rapidly approaching, and I swallowed dryly. A million things were hurrying through my head, and closing my eyes for only a second, I decided that my best course of action was to try and help those less fortunate than myself. The unlucky few who still remained in their cars, who had not had Captain America save them. I wondered vaguely if the rest of his team was around somewhere, and I hoped that they were, because I was sure I wasn’t the only one who had needed saving.  
I ran through the rubble and headed for the nearest occupied car, all my emergency nursing and doctor’s training experience kicking into gear. This was my job after all, and I was exceptionally good at it.


	2. Haunting after-effects

It was like someone had pressed replay, and then slowed it down at the exact moment when I was about to be engulfed by a sea of heat and burning flame, I couldn’t breathe, I felt trapped. I could see the blast rapidly approaching me, shrapnel hurtling towards me, I couldn’t move, and this time there was no Captain America to save me. Panic rose within me, and as the flame surrounded me, both in my dream and in reality, I involuntarily screamed and lashed out. I woke up still kicking and writhing, my throat hoarse and sore. 

I was covered in sweat, despite it being a cold night. My breathing was loud and irregular, and my whole body was shaking from adrenaline. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I shifted on my bed to look at my alarm clock, 4:55am. It had been a week and a half since that day; there hadn’t been a night since, where I hadn’t had at least one nightmare. Feeling a little embarrassed and still shaken, I rolled out of bed, hoping that the neighbours hadn’t heard, I stuck my feet into my fluffy slippers, and immediately felt some small degree of comfort. 

Caroline, (my flatmate) and I were both worked at the same hospital, tonight she had been on night shift, which I was grateful for, not only because it meant I hadn’t woken her yet again with my screaming, but because I also had the flat to myself. After wrapping my dressing gown around me, I shuffled out to the kitchen and flicked the kettle on. 

I leaned against the kitchen bench, numbly looking over the flat while I waited for the water to boil. I wasn’t normally a neat person, but Caroline was. Our lounge room was quite small, three faded and worn scarlet couches faced the TV, while in the middle of the room was a small coffee table, piled high with novel’s, some to do with the human anatomy, others like Pride and Prejudice and my bible, for reading. Leading off from the kitchen was the two bedrooms. Caroline’s room was cream coloured, perfectly organised and lined from floor to ceiling by shelves full of books. Her floor was immaculate, and even her wardrobe was colour coded.   
My room was clean, but untidy, the majority of my clothes were in my wardrobe, while my dirty work uniform lay untouched in a ball on the floor. There was almost no wall space left uncovered, ranging from drawings my niece and nephew had given me, a calendar, letters and poems, song lyrics, glittering purple butterflies, photos of my friends and family, bible verses, and posters of my favourite bands and TV shows. The bathroom wasn’t much to speak of; it was small and cramped, and in the fact that everything was colour coded, remarkably similar in organisation to Caroline’s room. 

The kitchen was where Caroline and my living styles met. The cupboards were not colour coded, but everything did have a specific place. It was cluttered, but clean. Well stocked, but only with healthy and fresh food. On the bench-top was the yesterday’s newspaper, it’s headline “Police confirm yet another assassination” caught my attention. 

Before reading the article I stood a moment in contemplation, only a week ago I had been on this newspaper’s cover. They had taken the photo of me sitting looking dazed and helpless in the back of an ambulance, cut and bruised. I hadn’t even realized at the time that I had been photographed.   
I dismissed the thought and read the article, although detailed with information, it didn’t reveal who the police thought might be the culprit, only that they “Were practiced and knew what they were doing.” This was the third murder in a month, apparently the bombings (if you could call them that, forensic still didn’t understand what had happened) were possibly linked to these assassinations, and they had still been unable to identify the person they had been targeting. I frowned, the article read that the only way the city’s best detectives new that the murders were even linked assassination, was because on each body, a note with a strange symbol, similar in some respect to a swastika, had been left on the victim’s bodies, explaining exactly what had happened. So far the police had been “unable to see the connections between the assassinations.”  
I tossed the paper back on the bench and after making my cuppa had a warm shower; by the time I had done all this, and had time to watch a movie it was nine O’clock. I decided to head to my second favourite place in the city, the library.


	3. The one-eyed man!

I sat in my chair, in a quiet and hidden corner of the library, it was jammed exactly between where fiction and non-fiction met. I sat hidden away, thoroughly enjoying and absorbed in my book. Someone in front of me coughed, and dragging my eyes away from my book I looked up curiously. A tall, solidly built, dark skinned man around his forty’s stood with his hands at his front, wearing a black expensive suite. He stood with feet slightly apart, shoulders set back, and something I quickly guessed was because of military training. As I scanned the man up and down I noted his black eye-patch, neatly groomed facial beared, balding head, and polished shoes. He was an impressive and intimidating figure, and without needing to be told, I knew he had come here to see me. The atmosphere of the room suddenly turned serious and somewhat tense, and I watched him intently, all thoughts of my book long disappeared.  
“Miss Hannah Johnston, may I?” He gestured to the seat next to me, asking permission to sit down.   
“No.” I quickly said. Wondering what he would do.

He sat down anyway, watching my expression with his one eye. In a strange way, I realized he was studying my character, and I mentally told myself to study his.   
“I’m Nick Fury. I work for and organisation named S.H.E.I.L.D, and what I’m about to tell you is top secret.” He leaned in closer, scrutinising my reaction.   
Before he could say anything else, I bluntly and cynically interrupted, “This is a PUBLIC library. Why the hell would you tell me something ‘top secret’ in a PUBLIC library, full of hundreds of people?!” I stood up from my chair, and picked up my book and bag. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know you, and I’m sure there’s something else, anything else, … like shaving the back of a fat man, which I would rather be doing.” A look of surprise flickered across his face, but he didn’t look unperturbed.  
I was being rude, and I was fully aware of that. I didn’t like him, and I didn’t like the fact the he knew exactly who I was. Nick Fury didn’t move, he didn’t even look offended; he simply sat with his arms clasped in his lap, waiting patiently, while his one eye glared unblinking at me. 

“This may be a public library Hannah, but it’s certainly not full of hundreds of people.” His brown eye continued to stare at me, as he spoke in a gravelly and low voice.   
“I’m sorry to correct you, Mr Fury, but this library actually is full of hundreds of people. And you may call me Miss Johnston.” I said sharply, and a little on edge, but by now my attention wasn’t focused on him.   
Another man had stepped out from a row of shelves behind and slightly to Nick’s left, and I wondered how long he had been standing there; like Nick, he was wearing an expensive suite, stood erectly, but wore an obvious ear-piece.  
“Look around you Miss Johnston. Do you see hundreds of people?” He continued to watch me with his one eye, and I, very much creeped out, surveyed the area. He was right, everyone had gone, I hadn’t even noticed.

I swallowed, and turned back to Nick; he now had to men standing behind him.   
“Who are you?” I asked, my voice low and whispered, as every muscle in my body screamed at me to get out as fast as I possibly could; I did not like this one eyed man, or for that matter, this entire situation in the slightest. 

“I’m Nick Fury. I work for and organisation named S.H.E.I.L.D, and what I’m about to tell you is top secret.” He motioned for me to sit back down, but I remained tensely standing. He continued, “I would like to offer you, Miss Johnston, a job. You would be working for S.H.E.I.L.D. We’ve been watching you for some time now, and what I’m about to offer you, I don’t think you could possibly refuse.”


	4. Past, Present and Future reflections.

I sat in the dark of my room, staring at the dimly lit ceiling, absentmindedly fiddling with the edge of my sheet. A thousands things were tumbling around in my head, and I felt like I was going in circles. I sat up in bed, leaning on my knees with my elbows, and resting my head in my hands.   
I sighed, Nick Fury’s words kept coming to the forefront of my mind “I don’t think you understand the significance of this opportunity Miss Johnston. People work their whole lives to be where you are; you have the potential to do something for the greater good. You are needed.” I swallowed, struggling to hold back tears.

I bit my lower lip, thinking back to the conversation, allowing it to replay in my memory. I had told him that I wasn’t interested on working on his research project, and money didn’t interest me. I was fed up with being hassled to join human gene modification researcher teams, I’d heard of their results from the last ‘super-soldier’ attempt. And I didn’t want anything to do with it; people had died because of it.   
He had caught me completely off guard, when he had said something very different to what I had been expecting, “I need an agent, young, able to be trained, socially capable to managed to work alongside… certain… ‘difficult’ elite members of society; willing to learn; with the ability to quickly adapt to surprising and dangerous situations; someone who is able to cope with the stress of life and death scenarios, In short, Miss Johnston, I mean you.” I had curtly informed him, as much I was flattered, he’d just described any good emergency Doctor.   
He had continued undeterred anyway, ignoring my objection, “I’m of the understanding that some of your personal life experiences make you especially qualified for this position; that the skills you’ve learnt make you especially qualified for the position.”   
He had told me that I was needed, and that’s what had probably got to me the most. He hadn’t lied, as much as I didn’t trust the man, I could see that. He’d told me that I wasn’t irreplaceable, but that I was his first choice, and that it was “an opportunity many doctors could only dream of”. I had told him to “let me think about it.”   
Ad if he’d been expecting that reply he’d told me, “I’ll be in touch with you tomorrow morning. If you accept, be ready to leave immediately.” He had started walking, and then stopped, turning back to look at me once more “I hope you do accept, you could learn something.”

I stood up slowly, mulling things over in my mind, as I walked towards my wardrobe. I opened the door, and kneeled down, shoving aside my shoes, a few other odd things and finally reached what I was looking for. It was a large, varnished, hand-carved wooden box, with small, black metal hinges and handles. I heaved it out determinedly, and sat down feeling emotionally weak beside it. I took a steadying breath, and forced myself to open it, allowing my fingers to sort and roam through its contents, before I began pulling everything out, pilling things up on my bedroom floor.   
I swallowed dryly and looked over the mess, searching specifically for what I wanted. Pieces of clothing, a perfume bottle, keys, jewellery, a blanket, a doll, photo albums, and hundreds of pieces of different sized paper littered my floor. My eyes lingered on the photo albums for a moment, before I picked up the one I’d deliberately placed on top of the pile. I opened the cover and read the familiar words.

 

“The Johnston’s Family Album—2001.  
I looked through the album, lovingly pausing at my favourite pictures; my dad showing me how to waltz, my mouth still open counting the beats while my dad looked up at the camera pulling a comical face; my 13th birthday party, my mum serving the cake as I posed in mid motion of taking a huge bite; my cousins and I on roller skates; in a mud hut in Africa lying in my mosquito bed net; bandaging a small native’s arm from a serious cut; me standing beside my mum handing her the equipment she needed mid operation, as she removed shrapnel from a soldier, in a make-shift hut while the light looked as if at any moment it would cut out; me sitting on my dad’s shoulder’s, he and I covered in mud from head to foot, so that it was hard to tell where he ended and I began, grinning like idiots, as one of the native’s took the unfocused photo; mum and dad, kissing in front of the Sydney Harbour-bridge; me point to the entrance of our underground home, in the Australian outback; but I stopped when I reached a family portrait.

I looked up into my bedroom mirror, comparing the difference and similarities between now and then; I had my mother’s nut-meg brown hair, middle part, and elegance of hands, I looked up into the mirror scrutinising my appearance, you couldn’t see it then, but now I could see I also had her long limbs, womanly figure, button nose, and eyebrow arch. I had always had my father’s determined set of jaw, which had become even more prominent now as I had lost the softening of my baby-fat, I also had his startling emerald-green eyes, pale complexion, and loosely curled hair. My fuller Cupid’s bow lips strongly resembled my mother’s, but I had my father’s dimples. For a moment I allowed myself to see the prettiness of my features, and marvel at the similarities between my parent’s and I; I had always thought them the most attractive, beautiful, skilled, patient and loving people in the world; my feelings hadn’t changed.   
It wasn’t like I had forgotten them, or that I had tried to forget them, it was more that they weren’t on my mind as much; part of me hated that, while another part of me found comfort. The only way I could truly describe it, was to compare my life to a work of art; when I was younger, my life had less strokes of colour, less defining brush strokes, so that each one stood out starkly against the white canvas. As I grew older, gained more experiences, and moments became memories, the canvas had been added to; other colours had joined the rough outline of my character, and the picture had become busier. I strongly believed that each colour, each defining moment didn’t take away from another, but that it simply made each individual brush less startlingly obvious. It was as if now I could focus on other things, the ‘bigger picture’ of my life; but back then I couldn’t.   
I began to cry uncontrollably, and had to force myself to look back down at the photo album, knowing what I would see next as I turned the page.

“Over 50 civilians and two world-wide respected Doctors killed in a massive accidental explosion in government facility.”10-10-2001. I didn’t need to read the article to know what had happened. An explosion had occurred in the building they’d been working in, and they’d stayed, ensuring that as many people, injured or otherwise had been taken care of and safely evacuated. Apparently another explosion had occurred, and it had cost them their lives. It wasn’t like I hadn’t known that I was loved, because I always would; I had grown up in several different countries, torn apart by civil wars, filled with widows and orphans, I had seen the contrast, and had always felt blessed beyond-measure. But I had been left alone at 13 years old, and although I had been able accept that they were gone, on days like this, I couldn’t help but think of them. 

As I lay hugging my knees on the floor, silently crying, my mind continued to run in circles, thinking back over my childhood, the end of my childhood, and yesterday afternoon. Nick had said I had ‘experience’ and ‘skills’ that were unique, and made me especially qualified for the ‘position’. He was right, as much as I hated to admit it; I was probably one of the most qualified in my profession, considering my age.  
Both of my parents had been multi-specialist doctors, and from a very early age, they’d taught me everything I had proven myself physically capable of being able to do. I wasn’t an expert at 13, but I had already seen things most Doctor’s my age still hadn’t heard or learnt of. I’d preformed on the spot blood transfusions when I was 10, cleansed and stitched wounds un-assisted when I was 11, assisted my parents with dozens of surgeries by the time I was 12, and at 13, had learnt what it was to feel and cope with the pain of loved one’s deaths. When I was 16 I had finished my schooling, and began university; it had been hard, but I had done it.   
I had never wanted to be a doctor because of my parents; it was because it had always been something I had wanted to do. Helping others when they were helpless, was when I truly felt in my element, when I knew that what I did really counted; it changed people’s lives, and it had changed my life on so many different occasions. I thought through everything Nick had said once more, and made my decision.


	5. An interesting phone call.

It was late morning before I woke up. I rolled over in my bed, yawning and pressed my eyes closed against the light. “Good-morning sleepy- head.” Caroline cheerily greeted me, coming into the room with a tray in her hands.  
“Morning” I grunted. “Now don’t you think you’ve just got the best roommate? Pancakes, fresh blueberries, ice-cream, and of course, your favourite hot drink, mint chocolate.” With a smirk on her chubby features, Caroline watched in delight as faster than lightning I sat up in bed, relieved her of the tray, said a grateful and muffled “Thank you!” and stuffed the delicious food in my mouth. “And yes, I definitely have the best roommate.” I stated with enthusiasm.   
“So, have you made a decision yet?” Caroline, direct as usual, cut to the point, looking at me steadily with her ‘I can read your soul’ stare. As for a moment I eyed the neatly organised and colour coded tray, before glanced up at her, my cheeks bulging with food, and slowly nodding.  
I swallowed and said a simple, “Yes”. I had told Caroline the vague details last night when she had returned home, and found me crying in my bedroom. She had been curious, but hadn’t pushed it when I told her I couldn’t tell her everything, mostly because I really didn’t know.   
Caroline moved forward to sit on the edge of my bed, and in her motherly way, wrapped me in her arms reassuringly. She was 45, had 3 married children, and was a widow of five years; her husband had died of cancer. “I’m going to miss you so, so much.”   
Caroline had been a rock to me, and telling her I was going to miss her, was seriously an understatement. I looked up into her eyes and mischievously asked, “So, you gonna help me pack, or are you ‘supervising’?”  
Caroline gave me a gentle slap and said, “I’ve already started packing your things, thank you very much, miss sass.” She stood up and started heading out of my room, taking the empty tray out with her, I marvelled at how well she knew me, knowing my decision even before I did.   
I yelled out before she was out of hearing, “I thought you said you were going to miss me? Sounds like your pretty eager to get this place to yourself to me!” I grinned, laughing as I hear her “Humph” of indignation from the lounge, and shut the door before I could hear her response.   
I was about to start getting ready to change, when my phone began to ring. Picking it up I automatically answered, “Hello, this is Hannah speaking.”  
A female’s voice said, “Good-morning Miss Thompson, I’m Agent Robin. I work for S.H.I.E.L.D.” There was a short pause, as I pulled the phone from my ear, noted that it said ‘blocked number’, and then put the phone back to my ear. “How are you this morning?”   
I was taken off guard, and replied incredulously, “Good thank you…uhm… er, and how are you?” I absentmindedly held my free hand to the back of my neck, grimacing at my lack of social skills.  
“Very well thank you.” She replied casually, and then asked, “Have you reached a decision regarding whether or not you will accept the position offered to you at S.H.E.I.L.D.”  
My mouth fell open; again there was a pause as she waited for my response. “Yes I have.” I blurted in answer, and then realized she was waiting to find out what that decision was. “I’ve decided that I’ll try it. But, let’s get one thing straight buddy, I am trialling this thing! And if you don’t like that then tough luck, ‘cause I’m not being roped into something when I have no idea what it is.” I waved my hand animatedly, and glared determinedly at my mirror; I felt in control.   
“Yes, well, we’ll see about that Miss Thompson, I’ll try my best.” My balloon of confidence deflated; I hadn’t thought of that response.  
“Ok, thanks” I meekly said.   
“Can you be ready in four hours Miss Thompson? There is a flight leaving three this afternoon I was thinking we could catch.” She said politely.  
“Yes, I believe I can… where would you like me to meet you?” I enquired overwhelmed.  
“I’ll come to you Miss Thompson. We’ll take the flight this afternoon, and if there’s anything unfinished I’ll make sure it gets packed and shifted along with the rest of your things.”  
“Uhm, are you sure that’s not too much, I mean, I don’t want to trouble you or anything, those sorts of things can be a bit expensive.” I said concerned.  
With a hint of laughter in her voice she said, “No, that will be fine Miss Thompson. I’ll see you later this afternoon.”  
“Ok, I’ll see you later then” I said, and then quickly added “and thanks.” She hung up; I took the phone from my ear, momentarily staring at it in curiosity and wonderment.


	6. Still no idea what I'm meant to do....

I stared long and hard at the files in my hand. “I don’t understand.” I repeated. “So, what do you want me to do again?” I asked, “But this time, say it slower.” I hurriedly added in self-consciously, holding up my hand.  
I was in yet another plane for the day, this one military styled and taking me to, well I still had no idea where. I watched ‘Agent Robin’ standing confidently, one arm holding onto a support rail, the other pointing to a touch sensitive television screen, which was currently facing me. Robin was tall, beautiful, evidently physically fit, and wearing a tight leather, blue body suite; it was rather off-putting and very form fitting. Hence my ability to see her visibly heave a sigh in and out, before she started again.   
“Basically, Miss Thompson, your job is to look after The Avengers Team, you will act as their personal and general doctor, taking care of both their physical and mental well-being. If you prove successful, in your endeavours to intergrade into their team, you will, on occasion, accompany them on missions, particularly if the risk to any Avenger’s member or civilian is exceptionally high. As such you will need specialist training in areas of self-defence, stealth and camouflage, not limited to but including …”   
I cut her off, “Whoa, whoa, whoa. You’re telling me, that this…” I raised my eyebrow searching for the name, and she impatiently repeated “Avengers team”, “Right” I said, and then continued, “is the very same team that stopped that giant, alien invasion, or whatever it was, last year… and you want me to be their ‘doctor’, and accompany them on ‘missions’?” I said, feeling beyond confounded. “Because that doesn’t make any sense….” I trailed off. My face spoke louder than my words, as my expressive eyebrows furrowed together in a frown, and I got the small crinkle in my chin, which appeared whenever I was confused and thinking about things.  
“Miss Thompson” she began, before I again corrected her.  
“Please call me Hannah, Robin.” I smiled goofily.  
Her face remained emotionless, but again I saw her body move as she sighed in defeat, “As you wish, Hannah.” She paused for a moment, watching as my face lit up from my small victory of wills, and then continued, “It is only logical, mandatory in fact, that any S.H.I.E.L.D personal receives basic defensive training, in your case however, this training will need to be more extensive, not merely limited to self-defence.” She eyed me carefully, waiting with a calm and an expectant look on her face for my next question.   
“I still don’t understand what S.H.I.E.L.D is. Mostly… actually I just don’t understand.” I blurted out.  
“S.H.I.E.L.D stands for Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. We are under the U.N’s jurisdiction, but principally work for the U.S….” She trailed off, looking at my blank face. “We stop the really bad guys that other organisation can’t.” She moved towards me slowly, with a look of deep thought on her face, and said, as much to for herself as for me, “There will always be a part of S.H.I.E.L.D that remains a mystery to you, it’s probably best that way.”   
She took a seat down next to me, as we began to gain altitude, and turning to face me said, “Not even I know everything about S.H.I.E.L.D, and I’m one of its highest level clearance agents.”   
I smiled my gratitude at her for dumbing it down so much, but my face fell somewhat as we began to gain height. I nodded my head slowly, to show my understanding of what she had said about ‘clearance levels’, and squeezed my eyes shut; I really didn’t like heights. 

What seemed like hours later, and probably was, Robing surprised me by saying, “We’re about to land.”  
I turned my head sharply in her direction and was about to ask how that was possible when we were still over the ocean, and hadn’t lowered in altitude, but as I leaned closer to the window to look out, my mouth fell open and I was lost for words. Seemingly out of no-where, a ginormous, flying, metal structure, with buildings, huge plane runways, and several enormous fan like propellers appeared, literally as if they hadn’t existed only a few seconds ago. Furthermore, we began to descend from our height and begin landing on the metal ship, or whatever it actually was.   
Robin calmly stood up facing the door, standing legs apart and slightly bent; arms clasped behind her back. I hurriedly got up from my huddled position, and mimicked her stance. With a jolt, the helicopter landed on the platform, and seconds later the doors rolled open, without a moment’s hesitation, and while the helicopter’s blades began to slow, she stepped out, and I followed. If my life hadn’t already changed dramatically, it was certainly about to.


	7. My new medical-bay.

It was approximately 4 hours later, all of which included, one strained meeting with a certain ‘director’, aka Nick Fury, 2 health and safety meetings (for most of which I didn’t understand anyway, I mean, what on earth is an Asgardian Hammer?), one strawberry flavoured donut, one toilet break, another meeting full of confidentiality paper-work, and now, a half an hour long tour of the ‘deck’ I would be mainly spending my time on. I was finally about to see the ‘quarter’s I had been assigned. Robin glanced at me sideways for a moment, as we stopped in front of a pair of silver doors, before she said “This will be where you work, for convenience sake your bedroom is adjoining your work station.” 

She turned to face me, “For security matters, I ask that you scan your card for the first time.” She motioned to a side panel, before continuing, “After activation, you won’t need to scan it again, unless to activate a dead lock.”   
I smiled and nodded, slipping my card into the slot as I did, and waited a moment before it gave a loud “beep.” Robin gave a nod for me to remove it. The doors slid open and we walked into a very large, brightly lit, white room; it was almost like a miniature hospital. I could smell the familiar scent of disinfectant, and looked curiously about the room, it had several patient beds, rows of empty shelves and benches, draws and filling cabinets presumably full of medical supplies, an x-ray machine, an operating theatre and all the other necessary equipment I was used to. At every bench, beside every bed, was a glass panel, dimly glowing and pulsating with pictures and words. A wide grin covered my face, and I immediately began looking over the room in more detail, I felt at home; I pulled several draws open and was delighted to find neatly folded bandages, disinfectants, and cleaned, high quality, stainless steel instruments.   
I spun round to face Robin, and said a sincere “Thank you.” I paused, allowing myself to let my eyes rove over the room once again, before coming to the question I had been wondering about for a while, “I’m assume that there are plenty of other doctor’s on board this ship. So, why is it you suddenly need my help? Especially since this place seems to be running so smoothly.” 

Robin’s face was guarded as she spoke carefully, “There are doctor’s on board this ship, yes. But we need someone who is able to treat, not only the physical, but emotional damages, and…” She paused, looking at my face intently, but didn’t continue. She looked away and changed the subject, “Will you be able to handle looking over your room and checking your station?” 

I nodded, “Yes, I think I can do that just fine.” I watched her face now, sensing that there was something she wasn’t telling me. I waited for a moment, but if she had something further to say, she didn’t divulge it. “Thank you” I again repeated.  
“I’ll have some food sent over when it’s dinner time, and a list of jobs you might want to take a look at” she spoke somewhat distractedly, I could see she had other things she needed to do. So I nodded and watched; she left silently and swiftly without a word, which was her usual farewell; Robin didn’t waste time, she never said more than what she thought was necessary to communicate information accurately, and she knew a lot more than what she was willing to tell me.   
The doors closed behind her, and I sighed, this had been a seriously long day, I felt tired, extremely hungry and emotionally exhausted. I began walking around the room, occasionally opening cabinets and draws, noting where particular equipment was, before I finally found a side door, which was white, and firmly closed. I slipped my card into the side panel and it swung open; apparently this was my room. 

To my enormous surprise, perhaps even greater than what I had felt when I realized that there was such thing as a giant flying ship, was my reaction to my room. It was nothing like the rest of the deck I had seen, in fact; it was very similar to a modern city apartment. The walls were painted cream, the benches were a dark grey marble, the carpet was a deep lush blue, the sink was stainless silver, the kitchen floor was tiled. I actually felt my knees go week, and I clutched the wooden door-frame for support. This was bizarre. I stepped in, and made a bee-line to what I guessed was my bedroom; I was right. Apart from a queen sized bed, wooden draws, a large mirror, cupboards and a glass panel above the bed, the room was empty. Emotionlessly I walked over to the bed, and sat down. It felt soft, but firm enough I wasn’t swallowed by it. Admittedly, then and there, I collapsed into bed, and slept soundly, clothes on and all, for an incredibly long time. I had gotten past the point of caring whether or not that was an acceptable thing to do.


	8. Oggling Captain America

Slowly I wrenched my reluctant eyes open, and forced myself to sit up in bed. For a moment I stared around blearily, musing over my new bedroom. It was a strange experience realizing I’d just spent the last two hours sleeping on board a top secret flying-ship, in the middle of the Atlantic. Remembering all of a sudden that I had an entire miniature hospital to explore I grinned excitedly, and decided to do just that. 

As I left my room, again the familiar and welcoming scent of disinfectant greeted my senses, and I sighed happily. I instantly began inspecting the room, lifting up beds, opening every cup-board and container, testing lights, looking at magnifying glasses, checking supply charts and use-by dates of all my sanitisers and medical prescriptions; the results of which was both satisfying, surprising and incomplete. I was understocked when it came to things such as paracetamol, flu treatments, and other mild-pain relievers, surprisingly over-equipped to take care of large gashes and cuts, heavy pain-relievers and bandages, and entirely missing any records or files concerning past patients. I was also pleased to find a mildly warm tray of food on the bench waiting for me, closest to the doors.

Once finished my meal of chicken soup and raspberry Jelly, I bit my lower lip, and leant against one of the benches, pondering what to do. Firstly I decided, I needed to make a list of all the stock I had in excess and was still lacking, but more pressingly I needed to find the paper and a pen to do that.   
I turned towards the door and watched as it automatically opened with a faint “hissing” sound. I stepped out and stopped, standing in a long metal and black corridor, directly opposite two forks in the passage.   
“Great” I said aloud sarcastically, with the realization that I had no idea where to go. “I may as well have a wander, not much else I can do I suppose.” I thought. With that I began randomly turning down corridors, most of which were deserted. When a full ten minutes had passed, and I had walked through several long, empty corridors, and passed many plain-looking doors, I turned into what looked like an incredibly large, busy and noisy gym. It was actually huge. 

I stopped, immediately understanding why I hadn’t seen people before now, apparently the majority of them were in the gym. I began distractedly making my way through the room, pausing a moment to watch the various activities. It was incredible; there must have been hundreds of people in this one room, doing things I could never dream of doing. A line of 20 people stood in front of their instructor, who was demonstrating a fantastic high kick in the air, another group in the far corner of the room were racing each other up a wall, with no visible handholds, several individuals were locked in what looked like an intense and physically painful hand-to-hand duels, scoober-divers waddled over to an Olympic sized pool, and in the very back corner, was rows of empty boxing rings. 

I continued wandering the gym, until my attention was caught by a lone boxer in a more secluded section of the gym, who was repeatedly and vigorously punching one of the boxing bags. He was amazing, I watched, halted and unmoving, as he skilfully bounced from one foot to another. Making fast and short, powerful punches, the impact of which forced the weighted bag backwards, to which he instinctively responded by shifting his position and hitting the bag in the opposite direction, so that it was again thrust forwards. His blows were rapid and continual, with no apparent reducing of fluency.   
He moved with such potent speed and grace it was oddly mesmerising, he was unusually estranged by the style of his movements from any boxer I had ever seen before; his strength and style almost seeming inhuman. It was strangely disconcerting, and yet his physically sharp and rapid succession of blows, his unbelievably fast movements was disquietingly familiar. I unconsciously moved round to get a better view of his side profile. He was large, tall and defined. He had sandy-golden coloured hair, a sharp squarely chiselled chin and solidly set, broad shoulders. His toned, muscularly layered frame was particularly obvious, chiefly because his drenched shirt clung tightly to his chest; I cringed inwardly at the obvious sweat marks trailing down his back and front. It did however afford me an impressive view of the movement of his muscles, and I couldn’t help but admire their display of power. But it was his intense and deep blue eyes which spoke of a hidden inner turmoil, that drew my attention the most, and again I halted. 

Suddenly and without warning he stopped, and leant up against the worn punching bag, as if all the worries and cares of the world rested on his broad shoulders. He rested his forehead on his arm, breathing slowly but deeply in and out. It was obvious to me that whatever was on his mind, it may very well have been the equivalent of the “burdens of the world”, because in that moment, I didn’t know how, and I didn’t know why, but as I watched, it looked as if he had suddenly aged 70 years. As the thought occurred to me, I realized how ridiculous that was, the man before me was probably only in his early to late 20’s, but I couldn’t shrug off the nagging thought of how much older his eyes seemed to say they were; it was as if he had seen, and been through things that I could never dream of.   
For an instant I still watched his breathing in and out, somehow transfixed by him. Then as an accompaniment of my abrupt realization, feeling somewhat like I was slapped with a wet fish, I was rudely brought back to reality, and comprehended what I had been doing. Rooted to the spot in horror I remained where I was, suddenly fighting a rising wave of panic and impending embarrassment; there was a very high possibility that I was about to be caught ogling a stranger. Quickly formulating my plan of escape, and finding myself able to move, I deciding the best course of action was to sneak away while he was distracted.   
I shifted my weight, holding my breath, and slowly turned around, only to have my mouth drop open and my eyes bulge, as I was confronted with a beautiful, leggy and slim, red-head woman. She wore something that resembled a smirk, her arms crossed confidently over her chest, and delicately arching her eyebrow at me; she held her head cocked slightly to the side in what was clearly an entertained stance. Busted!!! I let out a small squeak of terror, similar in sound to a mouse sprung on by a waiting feline. I remained mortified where I was, watching as the red-head’s face changed to one of amusement, and to my increasing mortification, her gazed shifted from me to the man standing a little behind me.

In a faintly Russian accented voice, the woman was the first to speak, “So, you’re the “doctor” they were telling us would be arriving today”. She didn’t hide the hint of scepticism in her voice.  
She hadn’t been talking to me, it was more as if she was discussing me. I swallowed, and reluctantly turned around to face the man she had directed this at, and whom I had recently been staring at. His face was one of confusion; noticeably I saw his penetrating, deep blue eyes slowly looked me up and down, and I consciously stood up straighter under his gaze. Evidently done scrutinising me, he held out his large hand to shake.

Shaking my hand firmly, he introduced himself, “I’m Steve, Steve Rodgers.”   
The moment he did, the very second I heard his voice, my mind raced back to two weeks ago, jettisoning me back in my memory so that it was as if the man in front of me spoke in unison with the man that had saved my life; Captain America. My mouth further dropped open, my eyes widening, and I took a step back from the man, dropping his hand as I like it was the wet fish responsible for slapping me. Momentarily feeling overcome with the emotions I had felt at the time, I Struggled to fight back the feelings of panic and shock that filled me. I swallowed slowly.  
With a new understanding I looked him over; he was different, but the same. It was the same build, the same characteristic, American accented voice, and most recognisably, the same deep blue, intense eyes. The only difference was that he wasn’t wearing his suite. 

There was a moment’s awkward silence, as I realized he’d asked me my name, his gaze settling back on me with a hint of concern at my startled reaction. Forcing myself to breath in and out steadily, I managed to blurt out, “I’m Hannah, Hannah Johnston.” 

It was at this point that the red-head stepped forward, impatiently summarising, “Yes, and I’m Natasha. We’re all charmed to meet you I’m sure. If you’ll excuse us.” She turned to Steve, “Banner wants to see you. He sent me over to find you…” She pursed her lips in disapproval for a moment before saying, “Which I wouldn’t need to do if someone hadn’t left their communicator in their room.” 

He looked as if he was about to say something in retort, but with a slight sigh of admission he said, “I’ll try not to forget it next time.”   
She turned on her heel and stalked off without another moments glance behind her. Steve moved over to his jacket in the corner, which I hadn’t noticed before, and slung it over his shoulder. In a few large bounds, he had made up the distance between them, and walked beside her. To my surprise he stopped, and turned around, jogging back towards me.   
Somewhat sheepishly he said, “I’m sorry to have to leave so suddenly.” He extended his hand again, which this time I took and actually managed to shake, while he continued “I’m sure I’ll see you around. It was a pleasure meeting you again.” His smile lit up his entire face, only amplifying his attractive features. He lingered for a moment, still holding my hand. I smiled back at him and waited patiently for his grip to loosen. He seemed to be searching my face for something, but I couldn’t tell what.   
After a few more seconds, I glanced meaningfully down at my hand and said, “Yes, I’ll see you very soon I can imagine, but I won’t hold you up.” It was his turn to look slightly startled, as his eyes darted down to my hand, apparently unaware he had still been holding onto it. He released it, turned around, still smiling, waved goodbye and bounded out of the gym after Natasha.   
I watched Steve leave, and let out a huge sigh of relief when I saw him exit through the gym doors. That was potentially one of the most embarrassing moments I’d had in a long time; I was left feeling bewildered, pleased and nervous. I was still incredibly shocked to have re-met my saving hero, and extraordinarily thankful that Natasha hadn’t outed my momentary act of stupidity (ok, who am I kidding, it’s not exactly a momentary thing for me), by telling Steve about my major drool-session. And yet, I had to admit, I was also terrified that she still would, I wasn’t exactly sure that my previous observations of her being a cat playing with me, the helpless mouse, wasn’t at all entirely true. I shrugged it off. Even it was true, there was very little I could do about it now. I began to make my way back across the gym, and headed towards my ‘quarters’.


	9. Bandaging birds.

I couldn’t help but feel some amount of disappointment, while I was still left reeling about who the man was, and what he had done for me, Steve Rogers (also known as Captain America), hadn’t remembered who I was.   
I had so much to think about, Steve Rogers in and of himself, being a famous super-hero, raised a serious lot of question. Like for example, the mere fact that people actually did have superhero alter-egos, and secret (?) identities, or how he had known about the bombs in advance from two weeks ago, and how he manage to move so fast?  
I stopped and sat on one of the benches when I reached my quarters, and simply stayed there, thinking about all the different questions I had. If Steve Rogers was secretly a superhero, and presumably worked for S.H.I.E.L.D., than how many more of these guys were running round that I wasn’t aware of?   
I began to understand what I had seen happening in the gym, they weren’t just simply ‘exercising’; they were training, maybe even to be superheros themselves. I wondered whether or not that was how Steve became a superhero, I mean, it was physically impossible that he was the original Captain America from World War 2; he’d have to be like, I mentally counted the years up in my head, 92 years old or something, assuming my earlier assessment of his being in his mid-20’s was correct.   
I sighed aloud, I couldn’t help it, I was devastatingly disappointed Steve hadn’t recognised me. In fact, if I was being entirely honest, I was utterly crushed. Somehow, I had gotten it into my head, that if I ever met Captain America again, I would suavely and confidently walk up to him, re-introduce myself (even though, of course he would have remembered exactly who I was), graciously and politely thank him for saving my life, would firmly take his hand, shake it firmly, and walk off as confidently as I had appeared (all the while, looking entirely stunning in an elegant cocktail dress, with curled hair, and exquisite make-up), leaving him to stand, helplessly watching me leave.  
I contemplated for a moment, what I had fantasied about, and the reality of my un-expected meeting with him. In disgust I mulled it over, nothing had been how I had imagined. First and foremost, because he hadn’t recognised me, secondly, I had not been suave and composed (instead probably acting like a shocked aquatic sea creature, with my mouth opening and closing the way it had), and thirdly because I had been standing for probably the equivalent of 5 minutes staring (again I made the mental comparison between myself and an aquatic sea creature, with large horribly bulging eyes) at the man with unwavering attention.  
I sighed again, huffing out my utter disgust with myself, squirming on my perch at the self-inflicted, un-welcomed mental-recap. I didn’t blame Steve in anyway though, clearly, being saved from and explosion, and saving someone from an explosion, were two entirely different things, or at least, they meant two different things.  
I knew for instance, that I would never, ever forget what had happened. How it had felt to face what I thought would be my death, the relief that had swept through me, as the blazing inferno passed around me. How it had felt tightly pressed between a cold metal shield, and the firm uncompromising strength of a wall of muscle, in the midst of danger, and yet never safer. Obviously, it hadn’t meant the same thing to Captain America. I sighed once again; maybe he saved people from explosions so often it didn’t stand out to him anymore. Surely that was forgivable?   
My thoughts changed to another subject. Who was that Natasha lady anyways, Steve’s personal trainer perhaps? I grimaced at the thought, I sure as hell hoped she wasn’t going to be mine, because there was no way I was about to become some super-muscled, kung-Fu, fighting doctor; no matter how hard she or anyone else tried. There was just no way, and I giggled aloud at the thought of me in one of those tight blue suites.

Unexpectedly the door opposite me hissed open and an averagely tall, late 20’s aged man strode in. He covered his right arm with his free hand and walked confidently to one of the cabinets to my left, with a strong grip he wrenched one of the draws open, and temporarily moved his free hand from his right arm to pull out one of the bandages. As he did he exposed his bleeding arm to me, and quickly taking note of the long and thin gash across his muscularly corded arm, I instinctively jumped off the bench and crossed the room to where he stood, attempting to tie the bandage onto his injury. 

I firmly took the bandage away from his fumbling hand, glancing reproachingly at him and said, “Here, let me.” I quickly lead him over to the bench, pressed the bandage momentarily on his cut, and moved his other hand to hold it there while I swiftly took out a jar of disinfectant, some painkillers, a pair of scissors, a cloth, a numbing ointment, a large strip of adhesive bandage and a pair of gloves; that latter I immediately slipped on.  
I motioned for him to sit up on the bench I had been occupying moments before. I gently pulled away the fabric bandage, and having already dabbed the cloth with the disinfectant, wiped around and on the sight of the cut, cleaning up the blood around it as I did. Inspecting the wound I noticed that it was clean, possibly done with a sharp knife, it was large, but not deep enough to require stitching. As I reached for the numbing ointment I spoke soothingly aloud, “I suggest you take two of those painkillers in the white package, if you need some water let me know.” His free arm moved over to the package, and as I began to apply the ointment I heard him swallow them dry, as I assumed he would.   
His sat tensely and incredibly still as he allowed me to place the adhesive strip onto his cut, pulling his skin tightly together, so that it would more readily heal. I was admittedly impressed; most patients would sit squirming and fidgeting in pain at best, while the majority, inflicted with that sizable cut, would either moan or all out howl and move about the place. It wasn’t like he felt no pain, I knew far better than that, having dealt with this sort of thing many times before. I also made note of how his neck muscles kept knotting as I continued my work on his arm, it was evidently only his self-control that was stopping him from making a sound.   
I cut off the blood stained part of the fabric bandage he had been holding against the cut when he walked in, and started wrapping the rest of it around his hardened arm. It had not escaped my attention at how physically toughened and robust this man was, his arms, his legs, his shoulders were corded with muscle, and his self-control continued to amaze me.   
Once finished, I looked up from his arm and met his observant crystal blue eyes, recognizing a look of mild surprise on his face. I moved a loose strand of hair behind my ear, and saw his sharp gaze keenly observe my movement, realizing he’d been watching me closely for the entirety of the time I had been working. I cleared my throat, and said “That should do it for the moment. It shouldn’t hurt, I’ve put a numbing ointment on it, and by the time that runs out, the painkillers I got you to take before should be working.” I smiled reassuringly at him and began putting the ointment’s lid back on as I said, “I’m Hannah by the way.”   
He had slid off the bench, and was picking up a few of the things I had used on his arm, following me over to where the Cabinet I had taken them all out of was located. With a serious expression on his face he said, “I’m Clint, and thanks. You did a much better job than what I could.”   
I smiled even more at his praise, “No, it’s fine, it’s what I do.” I changed the subject quickly, asking him “how’d you get that anyway?” At the same time, leaning over and taking the equipment out of his hands to put them in the draw. “I mean, that’s not exactly something you’d do in your spare-time, do you work with knives or something?” I asked half-joking.   
His expression remained stoic, and I could tell he was closely watching my expression as he said, “Yes and no. I sometimes do work with knives, but that was from a laser.” His voice took on an irritated edge, “Some idiot in a flying robot, thought it would be a great idea to try out his new invention, in an impenetrable metal shielded room, while people were working in it, and that” he pointed to his bandaged arm, “that was one of the rickashying laser beams. Thankfully, Tony’s armour managed to cop most of the resulting lasers.” His voice had changed to one of frustration and anger; clearly he was more than a little upset with whoever this “idiots” was.  
“Oh” was all I said. Considering I didn’t really know what he was on about, it was the most appropriate thing I could think of to say.   
“Speaking of which” Clint said through gritted teeth, I have someone I need to go and have a little chat with.” The look on his face showed that he certainly intended to have more than just a “little chat”, and I had to repress a laugh.   
I nodded understandingly, and offered, “If you don’t already have a doctor you see regularly, feel free to come and get me to have a look at that, I’m a little concerned with how quickly that will heal up. I don’t want it splitting on you during your” I scrambled for the word, “training.”   
A frown appeared on his face, and a small crease appeared between his brows, his crystal eyes once again met mine, and he said “You are my doctor.”  
My face must have shown my confusion, and his in kind mirrored it at my apparent lack of information. I thought I would clear up the misunderstanding, “No, I’m sorry, but I’ve been hired to be the Avenger’s personal doctor. But I really don’t mind if you want me to have a look at that arm every now and then.” I said helpfully.  
Rather than his frown disappearing, it increased as he said, “I am an Avenger, Clint Barton.” He paused, looking for some recognition in my face, but finding none continued “Maybe you would recognise me as Hawk Eye.” I could not have been taken more by surprise; and I certainly did recognise him. Not only must I have looked like that re-occurring aquatic sea creature from earlier, my mouth partially open, but again, I also felt like I’d been slapped with one too. Not only was he apparently an “Avenger” he was also a superhero. What was with all these superheros suddenly popping up from no-where? Was all I could think.


	10. Threats over a hologram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I'd ever posted anything, I used to see people's pleas for feed-back, like "Feed-back or die!" threats, and think to myself.... 'welp, somebody's a bit El Desparado' (a made-up term used to describe a desperate person). 
> 
> Now however the boot's on the other foot, and I know exactly what they mean. Tell me what you guys like, what's effective, what's confusing, where you laughed, where you cried ect. Tell me even if you like a tinsy-tiny little bit....
> 
> In other words guys, "Feed-back or die!" 
> 
> Haha, I'm a funny one! :) Anyways, have a lovely day!

Suddenly my arm started to vibrate, and I screamed amazement, as the watch on my arm lit up and a holograph image of Robin appeared, apparently being projected from the face of the wristwatch. I had completely forgotten I had been given it; I looked over at Clint, and saw that his wristwatch also displayed an image of Robin. My astonishment increased, only when I realized that Robing was “talking” to us. 

“Banner has called a meeting in the briefing room, and requests everyone’s immediate arrival.” She was cut off, as suddenly, seemingly as if she was pushed out of the way, a man, half inside some kind of robot and looking as if he had gotten stuck half-way between it swallowing him, said, “and believe it or not Clint, this is not about the little suite malfunction, its actually…” 

This time Clint cut the man I recognised as the billionaire playboy, self-confessed superhero, Tony Stark, off midway in sentence, and clearly infuriated hissed, “A LITTLE MALFUNCTION, YOUR STUPID OVER-SIZED TOY COULD HAVE CUT MY ARM OFF, LET ALONE KILL SOMEONE!”

Tony’s was obviously offended and he visibly sucked in a huge gulp of air to make his lengthy response, but before he got that chance, a smaller, heavily feature, broad shouldered, wavy-brown haired man stepped forward, pushing Tony out of view. “Can we deal with this another time, Clint?” He asked the dangerous looking man.  
From the background Tony’s voice could be heard hollering “I think that’s a fine idea, and for the record, it is not a stupid piece of armour, it’s a high-tech, complex functioning, delicate…”  
With a look of impatience Banner rolled his eyes and spoke over Tony, “You two can sort this out later.” Addressing Clint he said, “I have no objections to your having a little chat later with Tony, just as long as its where I can’t see, or hear it.” 

Clint’s expression of frustration had considerably lessoned, and instead he calmly said, “We’ll be there as soon as we can. I’m assuming you would like the doctor to come?” He glanced over at me as he asked this, and then back at the hologram. 

Banner nodded, “If this doctor’s going to be a part of the Team, she may as well join in, this does involve her after all.”  
With that the screen went black, and the hologram disappeared. As if that was a perfectly normal experience, which I really hoped it wasn’t, Clint started heading towards the door. Without slowing his stride, he yelled back at me, “Coming?”

I snapped out of my shock, and hurriedly jogged to catch up with his quick walk, anxious not to lose him, in case I got lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ps: Holy cow!!!! 81 views already.... and I put it up less than 48hrs ago.... :D Guess that means I'm not the only one that likes The Avengers (a lot)! 
> 
> Also, I did a happy dance (it was NOT pretty) when I saw that LAGirl90 book-marked my work!!!! GAHHHHH!!!! So HAPPY!!!! :D WOOOOOHOOOOOO!  
> I could kiss you, you beautiful person (don't worry, I wouldn't actually inflict that on ANYONE)!!! Anyways, it did actually make my day, so thanks, I hope your enjoying it. :)


	11. A meeting about HYDRA

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this scene is a little bit confusing!

I followed alongside Clint and watched him from the corner of my eyes. He moved with such grace, knowing where he wanted to go, and how to get there; I wondered if that could be applied to every aspect of his life. Eventually, after turning into several larger corridors, which were surprisingly busy, we passed into what looked like the ship’s computer control center.

It was amazing, it looked as if each individual, who sat in front of one of the hundreds of screens, was doing something incredibly complex, sliding images across screens, talking into microphones, watching a series of seemingly endless numbers slide past. I stared about in amazement, somehow excited by this new, foreign way of life. There was a general, but low murmuring of conversation that gave the room the atmosphere of importance. They all seemed to know exactly what they were doing; which of course included Clint, who continued with his swift stride, and walked along one of the higher cat-walk like platforms, to a side sliding door. 

I hastened to follow, and as we entered through the glass doors I saw a large marble oval table, with black comfortable arm chairs spaced evenly about it. All were currently facing towards a glass screen at one end of the table, which sported a number of large and slightly blurred images of what looked like government and army officials. It was the occupants of the room that intrigued me the most however, as Clint lead me over to a spare arm chair next to his. I took my time to look each individual over, as I began listening quietly to the conversation in the room. 

A man who I recognized as the gentleman Clint had earlier addressed as “Bruce”, was standing in front of the glass screen. For a moment I paused, in thought, and then I realized that I'd seen the man before.Understanding dawned on my face; he was the poor researcher that had been involved in the infamous genetic experiment that had gone disastrously wrong a number of years ago. Bruce, I now understood, was also the Hulk. I swallowed slowly and watched the man with interest, I wasn't nervous, but if I was honest, I was curious. 

He cleared his throat, nodded in polite acknowledgement of Clint and my presence and said, “Today the supervisor of the American Navy, Harold Longshore, was assassinated. As much as this may be sad, this would not normally cause any alarm on S.H.E.I.L.D's part, except for the fact that less than a week ago his three succusesing official were killed in a gas explosion. A note was found on the body of Harold Longshore. No big surprises here, it was an almost identical match to the ones found on the bodies of the last seven government official assassinated, in the last four months. Not including the assassination of two of S.H.E.I.L.D’s own level 4 clearance agents. This note, as already discussed and pointed out by Steve, bears a remarkable similarity to the emblem of HYDRA.”

As Bruce talked he pointed from one image to another, raising several news articles up on the screen and highlighting segments of S.H.E.I.L.D reports, and in fascination I watched, so far not having understood a thing he’d said. Occasionally Clint nodded his head in understanding, Tony fidgeted about on his chair, tossing some kind of a rubber ball back and forth between his hands, apparently freed of his robotic experiment.   
Natasha to my horror was seated opposite me, she hadn't spared me a glance, but appeared to be paying her devote attention to what Bruce was saying. Next to Natasha sat Steve, looking tense and too large for his chair. He did not however seem fazed, or even remotely surprised by what Bruce was talking about, and I wondered if he had somehow know about the assassinations before the meeting. 

They were all familiar to me, including Nick Fury, who unsurprisingly stood broodily in the corner of the room staring with his one eye at Bruce, except that is, for one man. He was large, impressively so, with a large muscled frame, shoulder length blonde hair, a twelve O’clock shadow of a beard, dark blue eyes, and to my delight, some kind of a warrior-Knight lookalike medieval costume, consisting of a red cape, silver metal breast-plate, and a giant fancily engraved hammer. 

I smiled broadly at him, pleased to find that someone around here at least appeared to appreciate a bit of light-hearted fun, and by the looks of his outfit, could see the funny side of the whole “superhero” stereotype that existed in abundance around here. When he turned to look in my direction, he smiled broadly at me in return, and I found myself instantly taking a liking to him for his friendliness alone. 

Bruce paused, surveyed the room, and then said seemingly uncomfortable under everyone’s intense stares, “Which brings me to my main point, until recently, we've only heard rumours of a new faction of HYDRA. We'd assumed that the “assassinations” were no more than a method of whipping-up hysteria and fear in the Media, especially since any reports from our undercover S.H.E.I.L.D agents stated that they saw no potential harm in this apparent rebirth of HYDRA. Our agents saw them as a disorganized group of mercenaries, with no real agenda, or possibility of threat. This belief still stood, even after the attempted assassination of Joshua Grey, third in line for the American treasury position. As you may recall, this attempted assassination took the form of the bombings that Miss Johnson experienced.” My attention was suddenly caught, and for a moment my breathing hitched, as Bruce looked directly, calmly, over at me, before speed-talking onward. 

“Steve was able to evacuate Mr Grey, and dismantle the first two bombs that were timed to go off, before the other three went off, thanks to a tip-off we received from an agent. A week later this agent, Renee Worth, was found dead in her apartment, again, with a note on her body.” 

When he mentioned the bombings, I had to force myself to keep focused on what he was continuing to say. I did however, look sharply up at Steve. Surely, it was impossible that he didn't remember me, Bruce had just pointed out that I was the very same person he had saved from the explosions. I watched his face keenly for a little while longer, but Steve didn't look away from watching Bruce.

Bruce paused, as he took a sip of water, and then said, “I was looking over data concerning the assassinations, and decided to widen my search regarding when these events had occurred, and in what countries. What I found was admittedly alarming.” He changed slides, and suddenly hundreds of faces filled the screen, and a map, with glowing dots. Some countries like America, as compared to poorer nation, were more heavily populated with the small pin-prick like dots. “Over the last 15 years with increasing frequency, over a hundred assassinations, remarkably similar to the ones we've been dealing with, have occurred. I did not at first see the connection, until I studied the way they had all died, and who they were. Each person has had some significance, either through their government, the army, or the media. This has included reporters, army and government officials, leading scientist, doctors and royalty; the list goes on. Each crime scene has left no evidence explaining the reason for death, and could have been contributed to a freak accident. In fact, the only difference between the crime scenes, and the type of explanation attributed for their death, has been the notes left on the more recent bodies.” 

Bruce once again stopped, fidgeted uncomfortably, and looked around the room, for a moment his gaze once again met mine, I couldn't help but think it looked something like sympathy, and somehow I felt unsettled by it. I frowned, unable to see why he would be looking at me that way. After nobody had said anything, or asked any questions, Bruce said “Based on these facts, and several complicated math formulas…” Tony snorted, cutting Bruce’s explanation off, before, with a withering glance in Tony’s direction Bruce looked at him, as if to say “don’t you dare cut me off”, but then Bruce’s expression relaxed, he sighed and pressed on. 

“I believe I have been able to identify that HYDRA is indeed a possible level one threat, and who their next target may be. I have taken the liberty to suggest who may be the best adapted to this situation. I think that Steve, because of his past experiences with them, Natasha, because of her familiarity with the culture, and Tony because of his useful resources, will probably make for the wisest candidates for this mission. Any objections?” Bruce asked.

“What country?” Natasha asked directly, raising her delicate eyebrow.   
“Russia. I included a file on the army General in the plane for you all to look at, but if you want to get there on time for his public appearance, you need to leave within the next 15 minutes.”  
“Wonderful.” Natasha replied sarcastically. 

“Sounds like fun.” Tony said, standing up and swaggering round towards the door, before momentarily stopping and asking, “We done here?” Bruce nodded his “yes”. In a last minute jibe, Tony yelled at Clint, “Guess you’ll just have to wait ‘till next time, old Clinty.”   
Despite Tony’s jeering however, I saw a smirk appear on Clint’s face, as if he knew something Tony didn't. Which wouldn't have surprise me.

Steve stood up, drawing my attention to his handsome frame, “Thank-you Bruce, you've done a great job. We appreciate it. If you don’t mind, I’ll go get my gear ready.” He patted Bruce’s shoulder familiarly, before leaving the room and turning to give a mock salute to everyone remaining. 

I looked around the room; without my realizing, Natasha had also left. That meant that there was only the red-cape guy, Nick, Bruce and Clint in the room.


	12. A god's gift

Unexpectedly Nick was the first to talk, which, in case you didn’t notice, I was really surprised by. He stepped out of the shadows and made an eye contact with me, before pausing dramatically for a moment, and saying, “I’ve instructed Robin to organise your training timetable so that it fits into sync with Clint’s, and any of the other Avengers if they’re free. That way they’ll all get a chance to know you, and you won’t get in their way…. I’m sure they’ll also use the opportunity, to decide whether or not they wish to continue working with you.” 

I practically laughed; he was as always, overwhelmingly cheery (not). I especially liked his implication that he considered me on ‘probation’, and unlikely to stick around. I won’t lie, I thought the guy was an idiot; if he thought I was so likely to “get under foot” and fail at whatever my job was (because, I was begging to doubt if being a “doctor” for the Avengers was really going to be anything like what I expected it to be), why had he hired me in the first place?   
I merely nodded instead, with a barely concealed laugh at his overwhelming optimism, to acknowledge what he’d said, and for the moment, kept my thoughts to myself. He turned, and left through some door I hadn’t noticed. Which didn’t surprise me either; typical that he’d dramatically leave through a hidden door, defeating its sole purpose. Then it was Clint, Bruce, red-cape guy and me.

Red-cape guy stood up suddenly, and in one huge leap was kneeling down in front of my chair, passionately clasping my hand within his. “Lady Apothecary, I wish to humbly introduce myself, I am Thor, God of thunder and lightning. When our eyes met across the table of but moments pasted, and you bestowed this god with a smile that outshone all the horizons of Asgaurd itself, it was as if a portal into your inmost being was opened to me, and I saw a woman of noble character, fortitude, great skill and wisdom. I said to myself, “The god’s have indeed taken much and given in supplement to this good-hearted being. She has suffered much at the hands of fate.” He stopped, and looked me square in the eyes, his gaze spoke of his understanding, but of what I wasn’t entirely sure.

In his deep, strangely accented voice he continued, “I recognise this great grief I see within your face, for it is a pain which I know too well. Whether it may be here, or in some far distant land your future takes you, I am sure, you will take fortune into your own hands, and defend yourself this time, against any blows fate throws at you. I wish to convey my blessings to you, and I pray my father would recognise the gifts I see within you. May your heart find comfort.”   
My initial reaction at his leaping to my side and kneeling down before me was to laugh; I had thought he’d been joking. But then I realized how wrong I was, this guy was serious! And then when I realized what he was actually trying to say, I was left feeling incredibly off-balanced. He may as well have picked up that giant hammer of his, or whatever it actually was, and hit me with it, because in his insanely long winded, flowery speech he sure had managed to hit the nail on the head. 

Staring at him with a shocked expression on my face, I murmured, “Thanks…I think.” I glanced away from him as he swept back his cape and stood up. How did he even know that, “I had suffered greatly at the hands of fate” (or whatever he’d said); did I have it written on my forehead or something? 

“You are most welcome Lady Apothecary, if you’ll excuse me, I must go visit the nearest Latrine.” He nodded solemnly, smiled at me and left the room through the door Nick had exited from. 

I swallowed, recovered, and turned mercilessly on Clint, “What was that?” I demanded, narrowing my eyes. “I’m assuming that wasn’t some kind of superhero joke I’m just not getting. ‘Cause to be honest, I didn’t find that very funny.” I crossed my arms and stared intently at him.

Clint answered my demand immediately, which surprised me, he didn’t strike me as the sort of fellow I could intimidate; I concluded that he must actually want to explain what that was all about. “Thor is an ancient Asguardian god, until recently he’s not had much contact with… normal people, unless you count one who hit him with a car. He can be a bit full on sometimes.” Clint looked somewhat embarrassed on Thor’s behalf, as he added, “I think what he was trying to say was, welcome to the team.” I still didn’t know what to think. I mean, what on earth was with them referring to him as a “god”?

Bruce, who had finished packing up some of his odd assortment of objects, such as a few books, reports, a toy gun and a stress ball, interrupted the awkward silence that had followed Clint’s halting explanation. “Well Miss Johnston, as Thor said, welcome to the team.” 

He smiled and held out his hand to me, I stood up from my chair, welcoming the normal introduction. “I look forward to working with you.” he readjusted his briefcase underneath his arm, “I believe I’ve been scheduled to work with you on Friday afternoons. I hope you don’t mind, but I was planning on taking the afternoon to go back over some of those assassination reports. I thought that with a professional doctor looking them over, not to mention a fresh pair of eyes, we might come up with some theories on how the victims were all killed. I also thought it would help you get familiar with how to use some of S.H.E.I.L.D.’s technology and computer systems.” He smiled cheerfully.   
Looking over reports wasn’t exactly my thing, but I was admittedly a little excited to get the opportunity to spend some time with a world respected Doctor such as Bruce Banner. Even I knew about his research, his life changing accident, and what he continued to do with all his extraordinary abilities. Actually, I wasn’t about to tell Bruce this, but the accident involving him, and the project he’d been working on (DNA manipulation) had been one of the things that had shaped my opinion against those sorts of projects.


	13. Apparently, I am a sloth....

I yawned, I was exceptionally tiered, and it was way too early. I walked slowly across the large gym, avoiding the few S.H.E.I.L.D agents who were training, and headed towards where I had been told the Avenger’s private training rooms were, because, yeah, they actually got their own training rooms. I swiped my card at the entrance, and when the door swung open, I was greeted by an almost exact replica of the gym I had just left. I stopped midway between the doorframe, looking back and forth; the only difference was that one was empty and the other wasn’t. I shrugged, apparently S.H.E.I.L.D wasn’t very imaginative. Which suited me fine.

I walked into the middle of one of the hand to hand combat zones, and bounced up and down, the floor was delightfully soft and squidgy. “Hi” Clint suddenly said in my ear.

“Ahh!” I screamed, as, interrupted mid bounce I stumbled forward, and ungraciously managed to twist in mid-air, landing solidly on my bum. I bounced a little and winced, looking up at Clint with my disapproval written all over my face. “Don’t do that!” I snapped. 

Clint shrugged nonchalantly, apparently not even remotely bothered by my unappreciative tone at his fancy ninja-sneaking skills. He held out a hand towards me, and I gratefully took it. Within a blink of my eyes, as in literally, a blink of my eyes, he’d heaved me up to standing position. Just as soon as I had opened my mouth to raise my objection, he was picking me up off the ground, (as in I may as well have been a doll) and turning me around. 

“What the hell are you doing?!” I yelled angrily. He ignored my comment and placed me back down, dropping quickly to the floor and taking hold of one of my leg calves with one hand, before he bobbed back up, gripped my shoulder muscles non too gently, let go, and then stepped in front of me. 

“Hold out your arm and tense it for me!” He demanded, and I consented out of my own demanding curiosity; I wanted to know what he was doing. He pulled down on my knuckled fist with one hand, and with the other felt my non-existent muscle. He immediately stepped back.

Clint’s eyes scanned me up and down, as if summing up my body shape, weight and basic sporting abilities. Meanwhile I looked at his face, if he was somehow disappointed, (because I’d figured out what he was doing by now) with his assessment of my body shape and muscle, he didn’t show it.   
He looked up, “Let’s go for a jog, try and keep up with me.” It sounded like a challenge, but I figured it would be easy enough. STUPID, stupid mistake! He turned, and suddenly his fast paced walk morphed into a sprint, and I rushed to follow him. He steadily kept that even pace as he began running around the gym’s track, again and again and again. I considered myself a relatively good runner, but as we continued running, long over ten minutes, I suddenly realised, compared to this man, I was not only was I like a wet, muscle-less aquatic sea creature, I was also a dead, lifeless, frozen sloth. 

After 15 minutes of that pace, I was dying. I had a massive stich in my side and was gasping for breath. I slowed, and Clint slowed beside me. “Don’t stop! Keep walking, I want to know how long you can keep going for.” His voice was stern, and I could see he wasn’t asking, he expected me to actually do that. I looked at him, disgusted with that idea, but continued all the same. So we sped walked around the track for half an hour. It wasn’t easy. I slowed even further, and then stopped.

“I’m sorry, I’m pretty sure I’ll faint if I keep that up” I panted in apology. Clint nodded looking perfectly perfect, as if he’d only been on a light run.   
He walked over to a bench with two drinking bottles waiting on top of it and sat down. He generously got up and brought one over to where I was collapsed on the floor. After a few minutes, and I felt mildly better, Clint said, “Follow my example and stretch out your muscles. It’s never a good idea to stop vigorous exercise suddenly, it should make you feel better.”  
I rolled over on my side, and started painfully attempting the leg stretches he was showing me. Eventually, after a lengthy number of them, Clint moved on to arm stretches, then neck, then back, then feet, then stomach exercises. At first it felt good, relieving my tense and stiff muscles, but then it began to hurt, and I was sweating just as much holding my legs in the air with my abdominals, than when I had been running. We continued however, for a full hour, before Clint lithely got up and fetched some sandwiches that had been miracously placed on the seat bench. 

I suddenly turned to Clint, “What were you doing before when you were grabbing hold of my arm and picking me up, and all that…?” I trailer off.   
Clint glanced over at me, “I was seeing how much of your weight was muscle. It’s one thing to know how much you weigh, it’s another thing to know how much of that is muscle.” As if that was explanation enough he stopped.  
I hesitated before asking, “Isn’t there a normal way of doing that?”

Clint turned to face me and said, “Yes, there is. But I wanted to see what you would do.”

“You mean, there was no real mysterious reason behind that? Other than to see what I’d do.” I asked curiously.  
Clint nodded.   
I shook my head at him, smiling despite myself, “Yeah, well, next time you could just ask what I’d do thanks!”  
Clint laughed and said, “It wouldn’t have quite the same affect if I did that.” I shook my head and laughed at him. For the rest of the meal we ate in silence.

After we ate, Clint again forced us to do more stretches, and then go for a fast paced walk. He stopped unexpectedly, offered me a drink from the bench again, and then asked, “Do you know any kind of self-defense?”

I shook my head “no”. Clint smiled, and motioned for me to follow him. Dutifully I did, stopping when we reached the combat mat zone. Clint walked over to the wall, and selected two large wooden staves from one of the equipment racks. Without realizing it, I began to shake my head, knowing what he expected. Clint only looked at me levelly, and handed me the staff. He watched how I held the staff for a moment, nodded, and then said, “Stand with your feet apart.” 

He shook his head indicating I had done it wrong, “Copy my stance.” I did, my legs spread apart relative to my shoulder width, legs bent and slightly leaning forward. Clint corrected my grip and then proceeded to show me the different types of blocking moves, side, lower, high, middle and behind. At first that was all he did, and then he began to show me deflective blocking techniques, so that if someone was attacking me, I could use the force of their blow to off-balance them.   
Eventually, after another rest, and a review of what I had learnt, Clint told me that it was time to stop. Admittedly I sank to floor with a “whoop” of joy and relief; where I stayed long after Clint had left. I decided, not only was I a useless aquatic fish, or a dead, lifeless, frozen Sloth, I was also a very smelly one, and after a considerable amount of time, I hobbled my way back to the shower.


	14. Helen's baking

The next day, to my great distress, was worse than the first. Not only was I a cripple from the previous day’s work out, Clint had it in mind that in addition to all the things he showed me yesterday, he was also going to start teaching me how to pull off his, “I’m a deadly silent ninja” trick. Which, I was not at all grateful for. 

Particularly when I found out it involved him throwing tennis balls at me, and seeing if I could dodge them, while he stood back with a grin on his face. The second day, as with the first, ended with my crippled body lying half-dead on the floor, while Clint strode out easily, apparently unaffected by the rigorous exercise. He repulsed me.

On the third day of my apparent “training” I hobbled in to the room, limping in pain, only to have a high-speed tennis ball launched at my head. When it hit me squarely in the face, leaving a bruise the size of a, well, tennis ball, I may or may not have picked the thing up and piffed it back as hard as I could in his general direction. Disappointingly, but not unsurprisingly, it missed, and Clint curtly informed me that we also needed to work on my aim. At which point I told him I had no problem with that, as long as he was my target. Clint laughed but agreed all the same.

When I did indeed begin to work on my aim, I quickly found out that the experience provided far more frustration than it did relief, as each time I threw, he maddeningly avoided the tennis ball. I also discovered that despite Clint’s horrible training methods, he was an incredibly real, down to earth, nice guy. He never said much, but when he did, his witty one liner’s had me in stiches, helplessly rolling around the floor in a fit of laughter. Everything he did, he did for a reason, precision and efficiency. It didn’t matter whether that was eating his sandwich, which he did in three bites, hitting me in the bum with his stave when I did something wrong, or expressing his encouragement, which generally meant he gave two words of affirmation, like “Very good” or “That’s better”, or my all-time favourite (not) “Go again”. 

I began to spend some time with Bruce too, who’s company was an extraordinary, but welcomed change. He always appeared calm, and for most of the time, we would stand in front of hologram, touch sensitive screens, looking through report after report on suspected assassinations. The work itself, although not hard, was somewhat disheartening, especially to think that for so many years, the people who had been presumed missing, were in actuality simply dead, assassinated by some weirdo-cult that had developed in World War 2, named HYDRA (because yes, I was slowly, but surley learning more about that too). 

Bruce, although kind, was always quite, which I could only assume was because he was actually incredibly shy. We exchanged very few words between or after work, but he seemed to appreciate my help, even expressing this to me once, when I pointed out how I suspected a victim might have been killed, which he had not previously realised. It turned out I was right, and thus eliminated him from our suspected “assassinated list”. I also became more and more familiar with SHEILD’s technology, sometimes I suspected, even being shown something, by the quite, but confidant Bruce, that I really shoudn’t be. 

Clint and my friendship was quicker to grow however, and a love-hate relationship formed; I hated his training, and loved his company. While Clint, I’m pretty sure he liked me, never really said any different, at least he seemed to enjoyed watching me suffer (otherwise, why did he keep throwing stuff at me all the time?), so that had to count for something. To my surprise, we also grew a sort of, tradition, so to speak, that one of us would tell the other some funny story, memory or other from our childhood, which, over the next few weeks, evolved into something more like a heart-to heart. 

I eventually learnt a lot, and still nothing about Clint. I knew things he’d done, places he’d been, people he’d killed (yeah, he actually told me about that, not that I really wanted to know) things he’d blown up, and people he didn’t like. But I never got to hear about his family, his home or his friends, (one time I did get to hear about his pets, but that mainly consisted of Clint telling me that his mum had flushed his mice down the toilet, and he’d found out when they bobbed back to the surface sometime later…yuck!). I didn’t really know what to think of our relationship, but I was begging to learn, that sometimes it was better to simply accept things, rather than try and figure out what it was, or how it had happened. 

It was on one of these occasions, that Clint first mentioned her. We were sitting down on the miraculous bench that seemed to produce our food from no-where, when, not for the first time, Clint expressed his utter disgust for the stuff.

I laughed and said, “It’s not that bad.”

Clint shook his head vehemently, surprising me with his enthusiasm, and said firmly, “Yes it is. This is nothing compared to Helen’s cooking. Sometimes I wish I’d never tasted her food, now all I can do is think how much better it could taste if she’d made it. You should taste her sandwiches, these aren’t even in the same realm as them! The stuff she whips up, it isn’t just food, it’s like a gift from heaven…” Clint trailed off, and hit me on the back, efficiently dislodging the piece of bread I was choking on. Because I’d been so surprised that Clint, man of few word, deadly ninja assassin, the very same man who could stare at you for hours without you even realizing he was there, the guy who sat perfectly still while I stitched up his arm, was talking animatedly, gushing even, about some apparent “Heaven food”, made by no other than a girl named Helen, so yes, I inhaled a piece of bread from sheer surprise.

Once Clint was satisfied that I wasn’t going to die, and I skulled down some water, he continued. “I realized only yesterday how long its been since I’ve seen her, or tasted her cooking. I’ve been thinking it’s time I go and pay her a visit, get my dose of normality.” 

I shook my head in disbelief, “Clint, who is this girl?” I asked incredibly curious. I mean, if she had Clint complimenting her food, then she must be absolutely brilliant! As in, without a doubt, hands-down, the best cook in all of America, no wait, that’s not strong enough, the world! 

Clint didn’t look at me directly, but shifted uneasily on the bench, “She’s Tony’s house-keeper.” This time I began choking on my mouth full of water, and Clint waited patiently while I regained my composure, and spluttered my apology.  
“Well” I croaked, “I think I’d like to meet this remarkable Helen. One thing’s for sure, if she’s got you singing her praises, she must be amazing!” I grinned and after hesitating a moment asked directly “Do you like her Clint?” I had learnt on the second day that Clint was not someone to beat around the bush with, because if you didn’t ask directly, either he didn’t get what you were trying to say, or out-right avoided the question.  
Clint slowly shook his head, “I like Helen. I like Helen a lot, but as a…” He hesitated, and then with a look of surprise on his face said quitlely, but firmly, “But more like a sister.” I could see by the look on Clint’s face, that in a way, he’d only just realized this himself, and needed a bit more time to think things through before he answered any more questions. I appreciated that about Clint. He seemed to think through everything thoroughly. Abruptly Clint got up, signalling the end of our break, and held out his hand to help me get up. 

Considerable time passed in this manner, six months in fact. I spent most of my days with Clint in training, and in truth, most of my spare time with him too. He just sort of popped up all the time, I was begging to get used to it, and by that I mean, his visits still always took me by surprise, but I had realized that they always would, and had learnt to simply roll with it. Half the time I only found out that he was there because he would always through a tennis ball at me. 

To my relief, and secret disappointment, I didn't see Captain Rogers for the entirety of that time. He, Tony, and Natasha were apparently still in Russia, since things had both turned out to be less exciting but more complex than what they'd first anticipated. Yeah, go figure what that means! 

As for my limited and brief interaction with the man, I figured he was bound to have forgotten me by now. I was certain that he would've saved countless fair-maidens who were far more attractive, and seductive, than I ever would be. That idea hurt me far more than I cared to admit, and I had to mentally scold myself for acting like a soppy teenager, pining after their latest celebrity crush. Despite this, there was no consolation for my wounded pride.

It was at the end of one Cint's training sessions when he suddenly turned to me and said “I’m going out. Do you want to come?”  
I turned to look at him, and asked “Where?”

Clint stood up from the bench and replied “To visit Helen.” 

I leapt up from my seat, and questioned excitedly, “Really? And you want me to come? When are you going?” 

Clint began to walk towards the door and I followed, bouncing excitedly as I did. With an amused look on his face he said, “I was planning on going right now.”

I halted, putting my hands on my hips. “When you say right now, do you mean RIGHT now?” 

Clint hadn’t stopped walking and calmly shouted back “Yep”. 

I sighed and rolled my eyes. Sometimes that man frustrated me to no end. I jogged to catch up with him, knowing that if I didn’t, he’d probably leave without me.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helen is Tony's Housekeeper...not that he knew that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, this is the Co-author of this story, the big sister, now this is written from a different perspective, and author, so be prepared for a change in pace and writing style, as always, I hope you have fun reading it, and feel free to leave feedback, it makes my sister happy.

Nobody ever wondered why Tony Stark’s house was always in a well-managed state of existence, even after one of his crazy, spontaneous parties, nor did it ever occur to them to wonder how it was that the billionaire genius managed to always find something healthy, fresh and remarkably delicious to eat in his fridge whenever he remembered to eat, even though it was widely known that despite all of his intelligence the one thing that Mr Stark could not do was cook.

 

Everyone thought that these thing just happened all on their own, or that Tony had invented some robot that did all of the everyday tasks like going shopping for groceries or mopping the floor for him. He had not; he had never needed to, maybe if he had needed to, he would have created the appropriate device, but as it was, for as long as he had lived in the mansion these things just happened without fuss, bother or notice. For everyone expect Miss Potts, who had hired me after an extensive background check.  
And that was the way that I had always assumed things would go, or at least they would until one of three things happened, 

(a) Tony Stark was killed by one of his crazy but brilliant creations. / I died unexpectedly.  
(b) I became insanely famous and rich in my own right and thus did not have to work for afor mentioned billionaire.  
(c) I quit after having a gutful of his insane parties and eccentric bosses.

Seeing as none of these options looked likely to happen anytime soon (except for maybe (c.) I had just presumed that life would continue the way it always had. Which was that I would get up at the crack of dawn, go down to the market buy all manner of fresh organically grown fruit and vegge as well as anything else that the mansion would be needing for the next few days. Then drive over to stark mansion in my beet up old car, get Jarvis, the houses resident AI, to open the door for me because my arms would be full of shopping, put the shopping away while checking with Jarvis if there had been any damage to the house that I needed to clean up after so that the work crews could come in and deal with whatever was busted.

 

If everything was all clear then I could get on with cleaning the house, sweeping floors, wiping benches, cleaning the coffee machine, re-stocking the coffee machine, vacuuming the carpet, collecting dirty washing, washing the dirty washing, hanging now clean washing, putting washing away, making packed meals for Mr Stark, clearing the fridge so Mr Stark didn’t poison himself, then go through the house and labs looking for dirty dishes scattered about and take them back to the kitchen for cleaning and putting away, go through bathrooms, clean them when needed, then go out into the back and do some gardening for a few hours while listening to music in my mp3 player. 

 

By around then Mr Stark would be stumbling around bleary eyes and possibly hung over, and if so would be raiding the fridge for my pre-made hangover remedy, if not he would be downing the coffee like the caffeine addict I strongly suspected he was. He would then eat breakfast, some fresh fruit salad with some bran and yogurt, nothing too heavy for him in the mornings.  
He’d go shower after, and I go in and set out what ever Miss Potts had left a message for him to bring to which-ever meeting wherever it was he was supposed to be at if she wasn’t there to do it herself. I would then go and take the rubbish out, while I was out Mr Stark would come out of his room showered and dressed to impress, grab his stuff that was laid out, and take off in one of his astronomically expensive and fast cars for his day at work running one of the world’s largest and most profitable companies.

I would come in from emptying the garbage, and then proceed to Mr Stark’s room to clean it. This involved making his oversized bed, gathering his washing, putting it in the hamper, vacuuming his floor, and putting discarded shoes in his wardrobe. Most of them his…

 

Then I would clean his bathroom, this could sometimes be a challenge depending on how much motor oil or grease there was on the shower base or ringing the tub, I changed towels checked to see that he didn’t need more shampoo and then I would go back out to garden some more, after a few hours of that, and when everything looked sufficiently well cared for, I would go into the house and check with Jarvis to see that the bills had been payed this moth and that there was nothing that Mr stark needed picked up that day, like dry-cleaning or mail.

 

By then my day was pretty well over and I would do a quick once over of the house to see if I misses any dishes, If I found none then I would make my way back to my little flat fifteen minutes’ drive away and try and relax by doing some art. Then I’d have dinner and maybe find some energy to hang with some of my friends before I crashed for the night to do everything again tomorrow. 

 

Strangely enough, Mr Stark had yet to meet face to face. I saw him. But I doubt that he saw me. I wasn’t even sure that he knew that he had a housekeeper. I didn’t think he was being rude, it probably just never occurred to him to wonder how everything happened in his absence. 

 

Things probably would have continued this way forever, if it hadn’t been for the piano. It was a beautiful instrument, a grand, all polished golden tinged wood with a glossy lacer vanish and brass pedals and matching stool. I had walked into the large living room one day and it had just been there off to the side by the open view bay window. It hadn’t been there the other day and I had no Idea why it was there now, all I knew was that I wanted to play it.

 

I drifted over to it with breathless delight, I set down the basket of towels I had planned on folding and sat myself at the piano. I slid my fingers across the keys lovingly; gently I let my fingers press a soft octave scale. The notes were clear and sweet, perfectly in turn. My heart hammered in my chest; I had never before had the joy of playing such a top end grand piano. I let my fingers rover over the keys letting them fall into a song from memory, Chopin nocturne in C# minor. 

 

It was haunting sweet piece and was one of my favourites, I sighed with happiness as the echoes of the last notes died away, with a smile I spun around on the stool intent on finishing folding the towels, only to stop dead when faced with a disheveled and confused Mr Stark. For a moment I was at a loss as to what to say to my boss, we had after all never said a word to each other. After a moment of internal debate I decided in a formal approach to the whole thing. Maybe it would confuse him into not trying to think too deeply on who I was.

“Good morning Mr Stark, how are you this morning? Miss Potts left a message with Jarvis that you have a meeting with the Japanese branch this afternoon and she would like you to ready to fly out on the privet jet by 11:00. Your lunch is in a cool box next to your brief case ready to go when you are.” There was a rather long silence while he stared at me and I tried really hard not to do the same to him, before I added. “Will there be anything else sir?”

 

Tony Stark blinked rapidly for a moment as his groggy morning brain sorted through the information I had just bombarded at him with what seemed easy confidence. “Uh, yeah,” he said in a disgruntled manner, “Who are you, and what are you doing in my house, not that I didn’t like the playing, because I did, it was a nice way to wake up, but really, what the hell are you doing in my mansion?”

 

Suspicions confirmed: Tony Stark had no notion that he had a housekeeper.

 

I decided to keep playing the ‘I totally am use to this and am so very confident in my place here and myself’ card, it had worked relatively well so far, seeing’s as he wasn’t trying to blast me with some Ione-Man gismo, or screaming at Jarvis to have me thrown out and arrested, not that Jarvis would do that, he knows me, I have clearance to be here, and we are friends, or as he says.

“If I could have friends miss West then I should certainly count you among them.” 

 

So instead of freaking out that after nearly five years of working for Mr Stark, he had finally noticed that I existed, I smiled sweetly and said in as steady and easy voice as I could manage. “I’m sorry Mr Stark, I hadn’t realised that you didn’t recognise me. (Lying through my teeth I know.) I’m your housekeeper, Helen West. You can check with Jarvis if you don’t believe me.”   
Mr Stark frowned at me, “Jarvis,” he called to the AI that was all through the building and everything else that Stark industry created. 

Jarvis responded immediately, “Yes Sir?” 

“Is Miss West really my housekeeper?” 

If Jarvis had been programed to sigh I am positive he would have just then. “Yes Sir, Miss West, is indeed, the housekeeper.”

Mr Stark’s eyes widened a little at that. “And how long has Miss West been my housekeeper?” Again, the almost audible sigh. “Four years, six months, three days, five hours ,twenty two minutes and fourteen seconds to be exact, Sir.” 

 

Mr Stark looked a little baffled at that. “Well I’ll be dammed, unless you are the world’s best hacker, which you can’t be because that would be me, you must really be the housekeeper. So you like the piano hu? Well I’m glad someone will get to use it, it’s a one of a kind piece; see I only really made it because the prat at the conference I attended last week was up in my face that I could never use my genius to create any sort of, ‘tradition beauty’ as he called it, so I did, not really what I usually do, but hey, it’s kind of pretty.”

 

I stared at him for a second, thrown by the sudden change in topic, this I had not expected, sudden acceptance followed by stunning arrogance and a surprising hidden talent to make beautiful pianos. 

 

“Um, yes, I mean, it is a lovely piano, and I really am the housekeeper.” There was a moment of stunningly awkward silence as I scrambled for something else to add, I felt that I was supposed to. “Why don’t I make us some coffee?” I said after a moment, which was met with an approving hum from Mr Stark. 

 

I lifted myself up off the piano stool and made my way into the kitchen, Mr Stark following behind me and watching with keen eyes as I made my way around the space with knowing ease. In short order I handed him a steaming cappuccino with a double shot to help wake him up. He took a careful sip and raised appreciative brows at me. “This is really good!” I smirked at him as I sipped my own beverage. “You expected less than the best from someone that Miss Potts hired to look after you?” 

 

Mr Stark set his cup down lightly with a dismissive snort, “You don’t look after me, I can take care of myself, I’m Iron Man.” I stared at him a moment and before I could control it a burst of laughter rolled from me, the very idea that Tony Stark could look after himself was absurd. I turned my back to him as I stuffed my hand over my mouth trying to smother my giggles.   
“What, might I ask, is so funny about what I just said?” Before better sense kicked in I had already replied to his question. “Uh, everything, besides the Iron-Man part any way.” Mr Stark lent forward onto the bench and quirked an eyebrow at me. 

“Oh come on,” I said with a little exasperation “you would have no Idea what to do without Miss Potts, or me for that matter, she looks after your business and I take care of you at your home.”   
“Do not!” Mr Stark shot back stubbornly. “Yeah,” I said smugly “How does your washing get done? Who cleans up after you? How does the food get in your fridge? Who do you think cooks it, who do you think gets to answer the door when you are out and all of your crazy flings come looking for you, or a piece of you? That would be me. And just saying, you don’t pay me nearly enough for that last one, you might be a brilliant genius, but left to your own devises you’d die of malnutrition, or in a fire trying to make dinner for yourself. Really you would, I have had to spend hours scrubbing at the remnants of what could have been once edible before you got to it; and that was when you only had to reheat it.” 

 

If I was going to get fired after my firs comment that I had outed before my brain had engaged I figured that I might as well go out with a bang, after all how many other people could say that that they had sassed Tony Stark at some point for a legitimate reason other than his appalling habit of flirting with anything that moved. Not many that’s for sure.  
But to my surprise Mr Stark was laughing. “I can see why Pepper hired you now, you’re great! I’ll give it to you, your right, maybe I’m not so good at taking care of myself, but at least I now know who is now, I like you Miss West, no Helen, can I call you that? Well I’m going to anyway, I like you Helen, you have sass, so how much do you want to be payed?”

 

My jaw literally dropped. This man made no sense, I was pretty sure that I had just in insulted him, or at the very least called his bluff, and now it seemed like he was offering me a pay-rise. The man was brilliant, I’d seen evidence of that, but now I was starting to think that he was a bit of a fruit cake too. No really, he was not responding like the egotistical prat that the tabloids made him out to be, I was in danger of actually getting along with this man.

 

He was still grinning at me as I snapped my mouth shut with an audible click. “let me get this state Mr Stark, I work for you for nearly five years, never have a single conversation with you, then you encounter me this morning playing your piano, I diss your idea of looking after yourself, and instead of reacting like every other testosterone filled male and getting narky and firing me, you seem to be suggesting that you intend to give me a pay-rise, I’m not complaining if that is the case, but I have to ask, why?”

 

Mr Stark threw his head back and gave a deep chested laugh, like he was genuinely amused by me. “I am not suggesting, I am, that is, going to give you a pay-raise, your right, you don’t get payed enough if you have to deal with those women pandering after me, and its Tony, if you keep calling me Mr Stark I will fire you. So, Helen, how much do you want?”

 

I honestly, could not deal with this all at once.

 

“Can I get back you on that one, Mr Stark?” I said in a small voice, he raised brows at me and I corrected myself quickly. “I mean Tony…” Tony just grinned maniacally. “Take your time Helen, when you come up with a reasonable sum, tell Jarvis and he’ll let Pepper know so that she can make the appropriate changes to your contract.” 

 

To hide any further discomfort I felt I turned away from him slightly and hid my face behind my coffee mug. I was glad when after a moment Jarvis’s calm voice came through the kitchen. “Sir, Miss Potts would like me to remind you that you have to be in Japan by three thirty this afternoon, and so recommends you get a move along.” With a sigh Tony sculled the last of his cappuccino and rose form his place on one of the bench seats at the counter and made his way back to his room to shower and ready for the day. 

 

I was rather glad of a few moments to think, I wasn’t entirely comfortable with my bosses sudden interest in me that had abruptly developed, I wasn’t sure what was going to happen next, or how I was expected to react to all of this. After a moment’s consideration I concluded that, surely as a billionaire geniuses Tony Stark had better things to that get know his housekeeper, after all, he had been oblivious to my existence for nearly five years, it made sense that he would likely forget about me as soon as something more interesting came up, or maybe something shiny and high tech would distract him. 

 

For a short time I was satisfied that I would probably be left alone to my own devices like I always had been in the past soon enough.  
On his way out of the house when Pepper arrived to pick him up Tony stopped momentarily to beam me a dazzling smile “See you around housekeeper.” I gave him a vague noise of affirmation and a small wave as he disappeared out the door of the mansion. I wasn’t worried; Tony Stark would forget about his little housekeeper soon enough, right? I wasn’t that interesting after all.

 

{:oOo:}

 

If Tony were at all a predictable sort of being then perhaps my prediction could have been correct, being that he was not, at all, any sort of predictable, I soon found that the billionaire had no intention of forgetting me at all, nor leaving me alone to my own devices.

 

And as if to demonstrate this, the first thing that the man did upon arriving home was to scour the house for me so that he could get to know me better. He strode into the laundry room with a confident swagger and peered about him with curiosity. “Well” he said in a conversational tone “who’d have thought that I had one of these down here, what do you call this anyway?” I arched a brow at him and set the box of washing powder on the self above the washer and fixed him with a raised brow and a smirk. “You are in the laundry, Tony, if you like I can get Jarvis to pull the building blue prints up to prove that it has been here for quite some time, despite you not noticing it, much like myself…” 

 

“Touché” said my employer as he peered at me over his sunglasses. I tilted my head in acknowledgment. Quiet descended between us as I went back to my task of setting the washing machine on its cycle, all the while watching the man from the corner of my eye with suspicion and curiosity. 

 

“Come watch a movie with me.” His sudden request threw me for a moment; it wasn’t really a request the way he had said it, more of a statement really. I looked over at him, a frown gracing my features. “Why?” I asked bluntly as I started to sort his clothes into two piles of light and darks.

 

He lent forward over the washing machine towards me as he said in a bland voice, “uh, because your hear and this all looks boring as hell, plus being the selfish, egotistical, narcissist I am, I really just hate watching movies by myself, it’s really no fun at all, so, I figure, since I am your boss, it’s with in my rights to ask for your company while I watch a, granted, unrealistic but entertaining film that is yet to be released to the general public but which I have been able to procure being that I am a multi billionaire, and before you say no because you think that it is gonna be some sleazy porn or something, I would just like to let you know that Jarvis approves of my selection and says that you will likely enjoy it, isn’t that right Jarvis?”

 

I gave Tony a long hard look, as much as I thought my boss was relatively amusing, I would not trust him as far as I could throw him with my hands cut off. “Jarvis?” I called and waited for his response. “Yes Miss West.” Still watching Tony I proceeded to ask if what he had professed was true. “Surprisingly, Miss West, Mr Stark has indeed, chosen a movie that appears to match the genre of those I have in my data base that you have said you enjoy.” 

 

Tony shot me a smug grin. I weighed my options as I tossed the last of the sorted clothing into the appropriate hampers. On one hand, Tony was my boss; it wasn’t like he was asking anything sinister of me, only that I come upstairs and watch a movie with him that he had taken the trouble of checking with Jarvis that I would likely enjoy. 

 

On the other hand, Mr Tony stark could, at the very least, be unpredictable, and I wasn’t entirely sure that if I agreed to this movie session, I wasn’t agreeing to something bigger than I could at first guess at. 

 

I sighed as I faced the billionaire. “All right, but on the condition that you give me enough time to make some caramel popcorn to eat while we are watching, no movie is complete without popcorn, it’s a tradition.” 

 

Tony beamed triumphantly at me, “That is a given Helen, if you want caramel popcorn then who am I to argue with tradition and deliciousness.” He then turned on his heal and swaggered out of the laundry obviously expecting me to follow, which I did. 

 

As it turned out, the movie was right up my alley, and even if it was unrealistic it was fun to watch, and I discovered that my boss was actually fun to be around when he wasn’t being crazy as all plumb cake. 

 

After, Tony followed me into the kitchen and made us some amazing coffee while I cleaned away the dishes used for the popcorn, apparently, he could use the coffee machine, seeing as how he designed it and all. Afterward we sat and chattered for a while, it was nice, relaxed, not two words I, or the world, associated with Tony stark. It occurred to me in a blinding flash that, perhaps there was more to the billionaire than first met the eye, I would have to think on that; Because if I was right, the man sitting across from me might just become a real friend.

 

The more I consider him, the more aspects of him came to light. Tony was known to flirt, but as I wracked my brain, I couldn’t recall the man ever flirting with me, not in the “I-want-to-get-in-your-pants-way” he had only been friendly, ostentatious yes, but only friendly. He hadn’t belittled me or said snide things to me, but rather just seemed to enjoy my company.   
If anything his behaviour was comparable to a gentleman in regards how he addressed me, and maybe a lonely one at that. Two explanations to the whole thing presented themselves.

 

(a) Aliens had stolen my Boss and replaced him with a clone of some kind.  
(b) Tony Stark was just a nice person, an over the top, hard to handle, arrogant, and maybe lonely one.

 

I gazed thoughtfully at the attractive man in front of me levelly, and decided after a moment that only time would tell which theory proved correct; in the meantime, I figured I might as well enjoy getting to know the billionaire genius a little better.

 

{:oOo:}

 

Life turned to both an odd and amusing kafuffle after the movie and coffee event. As I had suspected at first, in some way I had agreed to more than what was at first expected when I sat to watch the movie with Tony, I had in his mind, agreed to become a friend not just an employee. This evolved doing things that friends did, like talking, spending time in each other’s presents, and helping each other. Some amount of time passed in this manner, to give an example of some of the ways in which I found myself spending my time, it is probably best to describe it.  
Helping each other was rather unexpected to me; the first time Tony asked for my help I was sitting at the piano playing after a day tidying the garden for the coming spring.

 

Mozart Piano Sonata in C 1st movement; Eschenbach

 

Jarvis’s calm voice spoke over the sound of the piano, “Miss West, Mr Stark has requested that you come down to the workshop and assist him, he assures me that it is perfectly safe to do so, and by my scans it appears that he is correct.”

 

I got up of the stool and made my way down the stairs to the workshop and armoury, I did not usually enter this part of the house, it was Tony’s space, it was, what I had come to recognise as his comfort zone, the man was never happier than when he was half covered in engine grease and spanner in hand.

 

He always went down to the workshop when things went bad, like this morning when he had come home with a swarm of photographers after him, they wanted someone to blame after the Stark park incident, and Tony was the most obvious target to launch criticism at. I don’t think it would have bothered him so much if they had just aimed the slander at him, he was used to it, what made him mad and upset was that they dragged pepper through the mud too. 

 

Tony was, I had discovered, very protective of his friends.

 

He had been hiding down there for about six hours now, and this was the first peep I’d heard out of him all day. I made my way down the stairs to the workshop with no small amount of curiosity. What was he doing that he needed my help? I knew nothing about engineering. I pushed the door open and stopped short in surprise, whatever I had expected to see, what was in front of me was not it. 

“Uh, Tony,” I said hesitantly “what…what are you doing. Cause it looks REALLY uncomfortable.” 

 

Tony was covered in foam while half in half out of one of his suits standing in THE most awkward position I had ever witnessed. Which was, on one leg with the other jammed somewhere around his ear, leaning heavily to the left with one arm wedged like a chicken wing by dummy his robot assistant, which was simultaneously trying to douse him with more of the condense from the fire extinguisher, his other arm was held strait upright above his head in a locked position by the machinery that was, I presumed supposed to get the suit on and off of him. 

 

Tony turned his unhelmeted head towards me and raised his eyebrows at me. “I am participating in an impromptu and as yet unannounced form of sacred Tibetan yoga.” 

I folded my arms and threw him a glare, unamused by his sarcasm. “Well then, I’ll just leave you to it then shall I?” I said smoothly before making as if I intended to leave him as was.

 

“Wait! Hold on a sec, ok, strait answer, got it. I was trying to work out a way to speed up the suit-up process by modifying the segment timing and machinery components that affix the armour. One of the affixture arms sparked and dummy here blasted the lot in foam and the mechanisms malfunctioned then seized up, leaving me as you see me. So if you could pretty please help, I swear that I will never again try to have your nasty old junk heap of a car bulldozed into oblivion so that you have to accept the new, all expenses payed, eco-friendly fuel, with five star safety one that you keep refusing.”

 

I snorted unconvinced by his promise but moved to help him anyway.   
“All right genius; tell me what you need me to do.” Tony gave a sigh of relief, knowing him; he had been stuck like this for quite a few of the six hours that he had been down here before pride gave way to discomfort. 

 

Tony had upon seeing my car for the first time demanded that it be scraped because it was an offence to his reputation, and it was a disaster waiting to happen. I, unimpressed with his demands, had ignored him entirely, and refused to scrap the old but relatively reliable bomb of a car. I had never in that moment considered just how stubborn Tony Stark would be over the whole thing. I had learnt quickly not to underestimate the man when it came to getting what he wanted; and in this case, what he wanted was for me to drive a new you-beaut customized car that he had promptly bought and fiddled with, upon setting eyes on my faded, older than my father, car. 

 

When I had refused the new car on the principal my old car worked just fine, thank you very much all the same, Tony had taken it as a personal challenge to make sure that the car was totally and utterly destroyed, and it must be said, he was very creative in the means that he went about it.

 

“Do you see that little hatch opening above my right arm that is sticking up to high heaven, I need you to climb up on top of me, open the hatch, reach in and yank the release lock, that will release the clamps on me and the armour, and I’ll be able to finally not be acting a contortionist.”

I looked dubiously at the release hatch that was at the top of the steal circular ring that the affixture arms came off of. I trusted Tony to know how his machinery worked, that wasn’t the problem, what was a problem was my intense and incredible fear of heights. I did not like them, not at all, but Tony really did look uncomfortable and I was guessing that the stance was bordering on the edge on painful to be in. 

It didn’t take me that long to actually climb Tony; despite my fear of heights I was really very good at it, the whole climbing thing that is, not specifically climbing Tony. The armour was locked into position so it was solid and unmoving beneath me as I made my way to stand with one foot on his shoulder with one leg wrapped around his extended arm to ground me as I reached up as far as my could go and yanked the hatch open. 

 

I could see the lever I was meant to pull, but realised I would have to be careful not to get my hand jammed between the other complicated bits and pieced that was in there with it. Not that there would really be a problem, Tony was locked solidly where he was so I didn’t have to worry about him moving all of a sudden. Other than that possibility, there should be no other hassles.

 

Correct assumption: Tony moving was not a problem to be worry over.  
Incorrect assumption: Other than Tony moving, there should be no other problems.

 

It was dummy that moved and screwed the whole thing up. It saw the flash of light reflect off of my wrist watch, and mistook for a flame spark. The robot jolted up from its position and blasted me with foam, with a shriek I tried to doge the blast, but only succeeded losing my balance and slipping on the armour. 

I threw my other arm up in an attempt to grasp the metal circle that my hand was inserted into, I knocked the hatch opening which snapped down and caught onto the steal band of the offending wrist watch. My feet went out from under me as I slipped on the foam.

 

“I’ve got you!” cried Tony as by some miracle he seized the leather belt on my jeans with his armoured hand. (The only appendage on him, besides his head, he could move) I hung there for a moment trying to get my bearings.

 

I realized dully that if Tony had not grabbed my belt then I would have likely broken my wrist, most of my weight was hanging from that belt now instead of from the limb, which was, I discovered after a few moments of trying to free it, well and truly stuck. Between the watch and the hatch that had partially shut and jammed, my arm was immobilising.   
After a longer time of trying to reclaim my perch on Tony, I also discovered that the foam that we both were now covered in made it impossible to get any sort of hold, grip, or grasp of the slippery metal. We were now both very stuck.

 

I glared viciously at the robot. “When I get down from here I am going to break you into a million pieced, turn you into modern art, and put you in the garden for all of the birds too poop on.” I said menacingly, “And I’ll help her.” chirped in Tony mildly. 

 

We spent a another ten minutes debating how to and trying to get out of our predicament, when at last we both agreed that it was high time we called Miss Pepper Potts (Tony with much reluctance, because he thought this was all very embarrassing, and given enough time, between the two of us, we could figure something out, which I instantly said was too long a time for my likening.) to come and fix the bungle, which she of course usually excelled at.

 

Of course being that neither of us could get to a phone, it was Jarvis that made that actual call, and in around fifteen minutes a rather upset, and fearing the worst, Pepper Potts came dashing into the workshop followed by a man in a dark suit with a receding hair line, and friendly smile. Behind him came another three men, all wearing something that looked like a cross between leather and spandex jump suits, with ear pieces. 

 

“Hello Pepper, Agent Coulson, how nice to see you, and your little minions too.” drawled Tony blandly as he looked the group over sceptically.   
“This,” he hissed at me, “is WHY I didn’t want to call her.”

 

I stuck my tongue out at him.

 

“Tony, how on earth did you get like that, and what have you done to poor Helen.” Said Pepper in a mixture of exasperation and amusement.   
In short order we had explained what had happened, much to Peppers amusement it might be added, and soon I was much relieved to find myself on solid ground nursing a bruised but still functional wrist. It took the strangely dressed agents a little longer to get tony free, because dummy the robot, apparently felt guilty about the whole, blasting us with foam when it wasn’t necessary thing, and tried to help. 

Needless to say it was not much help at all.

 

Agent Coulson turned out to be a very agreeable sort of fellow and despite Tony’s teasing, I could see that the two of them were actually friends. That was the first time that I met any of the S.H.E.I.L.D people, it certainly would not be the last time that I met any of them, because apparently, Tony was a consultant for them when they got things that they did not understand, or were too big for them, all of which he promptly outed over the top of agent Coulson’s “I can’t tell you who I work for, that’s confidential.” Tony is not one for secrets, and apparently there is not much others can do when he wants to spill them. 

 

There was some argument after that, agent Coulson was unimpressed with Tony for blabbing, and Tony was insisting that I be given as high a level clearance as he had, because he was going to tell me things anyway, so they may as well get the paperwork out of the way. 

 

“She has worked for me for five years and has seen all the stuff ups and inventions than I have ever done or made with front row seats, none of it has ever made it to the tabloids or papers, she had never said anything to anyone about what she does here, not even down to the contents of my fridge or the toilet paper I use, not that I know the brand, I don’t buy it she does, but the point is, she could have made a lot of money from selling dirt on me, but she never has, believe me, I cheeked. So just give her the clearance Coulson, Hell she might even come in useful someday.”

 

I was shocked by how strongly Tony seemed to feel on the subject of me being able to have clearance to whatever it was that tony did for these people, it seemed that agent Coulson was too.   
He turned to me and gave me a long hard look as if trying to work every aspect of me out in an instant. I met his eyes and gazed levelly back at him under his scrutiny, after a moment he sighed, “I’ll talk to Fury and let him know where you stand on the matter, and that even if she doesn’t have the clearance, she will probably wind up knowing classified information anyway.” 

 

The agents left soon afterward and Tony followed them out, chattering to the agents as he showed them out. It was then that Pepper turned to me. “Thank you.” I blinked at her in confusion as I used on of the many rags around the workshop to try and wipe off some of the extinguisher foam from my arms and face. “For what? I didn’t help in the least, I wound up getting stuck too.”

 

She shook her head slowly, and then reached up to tuck a strand of strawberry blond hair behind her ear. 

“Tony doesn’t trust many people, he had good reason not to, and a lot of betrayals behind those reasons, he likes you, you treat him the same way you treat anyone else, you tell him the truth, you worked for him for five of his wildest years and never said a peep to the journalists about any of the times you found him passes out on the floor, or in some odd part of the garden and had to drag him back to bed. He did check, you know, that you hadn’t said anything. He gets so lonely sometimes, and that’s usually when he does stupid things, but recently he doesn’t feel the need to go out clubbing or womanising, not that he does that anymore now that he has me, but still…”

 

She trailed off as I stared at her, “but…I didn’t do anything.” I said shocked at this revelation. Pepper just smiled at me, and sat down on the big comfy leather couch at the back of the workshop, she gestured for me to join her.

 

“You really didn’t notice did you? Tony has a limited number of friends; he counts you among them, Tony’s instincts on people are rarely if ever wrong, he has had to read people since he was a boy at his father’s side, he is very good at it. So when Tony told me that he liked you I was shocked, because for Tony to like you, it means a lot.” 

She quirked her head to one side and smoothed her hands over her grey silk office skirt, and frowned thoughtfully at me for a moment. “Tony told me once that you remind him of his mother, I asked him what he meant when he said that, he told me, you make this place feel like a home, rather than just a house. I think he feels safe around you; emotionally that is, he can protect himself physically, but not emotionally, you two have been friends for nearly six months now, and in that time I’ve noticed that when he’s not having dinner with me, or at some business function, he comes home and has dinner with you. I want to thank you for that, for putting up with him, I know that you don’t have to spend time with him, or even be nice to him, but you are, and you mean it, and it’s got nothing to do with his money, so thank you.”

 

I swallowed nervously at Peppers confession, I hadn’t realised that Tony seemed to like me so much; or that I was such an exception to the rule. What really set me off kilter was that looking back I could see that she was right, over the last six months Tony had come home earlier that previous. 

 

I had never noticed it, he had just started to appear, he always managed to distract me from thinking on the occurrence as he told me some story or showed me some new gadget he was working on, then it would be dinnertime before I knew it, and he would ask me if I would teach him to play the piano after dinner, or if I would watch a movie with him.   
Sometimes we would just talk for a long time, mostly about regular things, like how we both liked to surf, or about how silly some people were at times. It was nice, my tiny little grey walled, three room apartment was a dull and lonely place, compared to the easy and happy company that Tony and I shared in his big open and bright home. 

 

I realised all of a sudden that maybe Tony wasn’t the only one to have found a home in the mansion. I had over the past six months spent more time at the mansion that I ever had before. And I liked that, I liked being around Tony and Pepper, because more often than not, she was with us too. 

 

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, “Tony’s not the only one glad of company,” I said quietly. Pepper just smiled and reached over to squeeze my hand warmly. “I know, but that’s how friendship works, it goes two ways.” I smiled brightly at Pepper, “Yeah, I guess it does.” 

Jarvis’s voice spoke through the room startling Pepper and I momentarily. “Miss Potts, Miss West, I thought that you might like to know that Agent Coulson and his team are now gone, and that Mr stark is making his way down the stairs and will be here momentarily.”

I smiled as Pepper thanked Jarvis for his forewarning, trust the uncannily cleaver AI to know when Tony was not supposed to hear a conversation about him, and then warn us when he was coming so we were not caught un-aware. 

 

Seconds later Tony bounced into the room still covered in foam, though slightly less so because most of it was on his armour. He glanced at the two of us sitting on the couch suspiciously. Before he could ask what we were up to I distracted him. “Hey Tony, do you mind if Jarvis calls for takeaway to night, my wrist is pretty sore, and after all that I don’t really feel like cooking, plus I really, really want to have a shower.” 

 

He smiled in easy understanding, “Sure, sounds fair, hey Jarvis, you heard the lady, pick some takeaway that we all like and have it sent over, and organise for a new set of clothes to be bought for Helen over there, seeing as how the ones she’s wearing are ruined thanks to dummy, make sure they‘re nice.” 

“I took the liberty of ordering Miss West several changes of attire as soon as the robot doused her Sir, they should be hear in about seven minutes by my estimation, as for the takeaway selection, you are all fond of Chinese, so I have ordered a selection of your favourites, the order will be here in half an hour. Miss West I believe that the guest suit on the second floor will meet your needs perfectly, I have turned the heater on to start warming the room for you. Is there anything else that you need Sir?” 

 

Tony grinned at the look on my face, “No Jarvis that will be fine, oh come on Helen, I ruined your clothes, it’s only right that I replace them, besides Jarvis has a magnificent taste in fashion, he chose that blue dress that Pepper loves, you’ve seen it, so stop fretting and go have a shower.” 

There was very little I could say on the matter and I was slowly learning to pick my battles when it came to thing that Tony did. “Fine,” I said with a sigh, “let me know when the food gets here.” I then went off to the guest room to do just as he suggested. 

The water was glorious on my bruised and strained shoulders from where my weight had yanked the tendons. When I finished my shower Jarvis informed me that Pepper had left my new outfits on the bed in the guest room, for my inspection and use. I wondered out into the adjoining room, towel firmly in place, and went to inspect the garments laid out for me.

I almost had a heart attack when I saw the brand names on the tags, Channel, Gucci and Burberry, a pair of socks form this pile could have probably paid my rent for six months. “Jarvis,” I called weekly “did you really have to go all out on the clothes like this?” 

 

There was a moments silence before the AI responded “I am Sorry Miss West, are the stiles not to your likening? If so I can arrange for more items to be delivered…” 

I made a strangled noise of alarm, “NO, no these are just fine Jarvis, I like the clothes, they are lovely, what I meant was, did you really have to get such expensive things for me?”  
The response this time was immediate. 

“Certainly Miss West, Mr Stark has given me previous orders that if I should ever have to call for such items as before you, they are to be of the finest quality,” There was a momentary laps of silence as I stared at the garments on the bed before Jarvis added a personal note “Miss West, if you don’t mind my saying, a nice woman like you deserves nice things, there is nothing wrong with accepting a gift.”

 

I sighed rolled my eyes, and gave in to the AI, sometimes, Jarvis could be just as extravagant and smooth talking as his creator. From the pile I selected a pair of very comfortable and fine looking jeans, a soft shampain coloured cotton blouse, and a blue grey knit cardigan with silver buttons. In a bag off to the side I found a selection of undergarments, each mysteriously a perfect fit, “Jarvis,” I asked cautiously, “how did you know all my sizes?” 

 

Jarvis’s reply was both comforting and unnerving all at once. “I scan your body when you come into the house, the scans are kept on file and added to you employee health records, I sent the scan along with a colour chart to the consultant I placed the clothing order with. She is trained to choose such things to suit you, will there be anything else?”  
“No, thank you Jarvis, that will be all for now.” I said still slightly uneasy.

 

When I emerged a few moments later and followed my nose to the kitchen I found Tony and Pepper setting out disposable boxes of Chinese takeaway. With a noise of appreciation I scooted into one of the chairs situated about the table, and grabbed a pair of chopsticks and with a word of thanks to Tony and Pepper, started to help myself to the food along with them. The evening turned out to be a really nice one after all the drama of an hour earlier.

 

As it turned out, I was approved for clearance by S.H.E.I.L.D, a week after the foam incident, (that’s what we called it, Tony, Pepper and I, we name the incidents so we can keep track of them.) Agent Coulson turned up outside my dreary, damp little apartment with a briefcase. I let him in and the next three hours consisted of signing a lot of digitized paperwork on a glass tablet, with glowing blue writing, briefings on what it was that S.H.E.I.L.D did in the grand scheme of things, which basically consisted of fighting all the really bad guys that other groups couldn’t. 

It was fascinating and terrifying all at once, on one side I was grateful that there was a group to protect us from the really bad things that went beyond awful, but on the other hand, I wondered just how much of that trouble they may have been the instigators of, what with all their tech, and training, it made me wonder if any of their agents had ever gone rouge.   
All in all, I decided that the pros and cons were two sides of the one coin, and I would leave that sort of decision until I had more solid evidence than file work, and here say; but that reserve of judgement did not mean I trusted them. I did not trust them at all, not one little bit, I might come to trust individuals that made S.H.E.I.L.D up, but as a whole I would likely never trust the organization.

 

Tony, Pepper and I found ourselves spending a good deal of time together at the mansion, and to my shock everywhere else. Tony and Pepper had started work on a new building located in Manhattan; they were both very excited over its progression. It would be entirely powered by its own arc-reactor. Tony was slowly but surely changing the way technology worked in our world, from weapons, to safe and environmentally friendly power.

 

I was very proud of him; I had been one of the few people who had seen Tony after his captivity in the dessert in the east, and his decision to stop making weapons.   
I had seen the change that followed his announcement that he was Ironman, the responsibility that he had shouldered even if it made him an easy target for those looking for someone to blame when things went bad, and as I got to know him more, I had grown to respect the man that he was, not the polished veneer that he so often wore at his press-conferences with his patented Stark smile, (though I understood all too well why he wore that charter like a mask) but because of who he was, and was still becoming.

 

Tony was my friend; and for all that I was worth, I was his friend, a hard thing at times, but, it was worth it to know the man behind the public face; brave, funny, brilliant, and just a little unsure of himself. Yes, I was proud of him, and to my utter amazement my opinions mattered to him. 

 

It was the evening after a bad press conference gone south with the poop wagon. Some old stark weapon stock had been found in the possession of rebel factions in Egypt, reporters were hounding for blood, and the politicians were pointing fingers at Stark Industries, accusing them of not destroying faulty stock or some such. 

 

Of course it was all true as beef eaters declaring love for tofu, which it to say, it was all a stinking load of rubbish. The weapons had serial numbers that matched a delivery to the air force that had been stolen back in the days when Stark sold weapons. It was the military that was responsible for tracking down weapons taken from their own warehouses and stock supply, and when Tony had offered to go and get them they had told him the exact same thing as a way of trying to get him to pull his nose out of it, which was of course, just ridicules.

 

To put it plainly, they wanted someone to blame, not someone to show them up and fix their bungles for them. Needless to say, they had made poor Tony and Pepper look like right twats.   
He had come home about an hour and a half ago; I hadn’t actually seen him, just heard him and then had Jarvis confirm it for me. He had screeched into the underground car park that attached into his workshop and had gone straight to work on his hot-rod that he was forever tinkering with, when in a stormy mood, good clothes and all; I knew about the good clothes bit because Jarvis had dobbed on him, (good ol Jarvis).

 

There wasn’t a lot that I could do, and to be honest I really didn’t know what to do, but I still wanted to help. So, I winged it. My mum was one of those old fashioned people that believed that a good hearty meal, a patient person, and a bit of quiet to talk into, can make a world of difference to a person. And seeing as she had yet to be proven wrong, I figured I’d follow her blueprint on the matter.

 

I set two plates of beef, red wine casserole out, a few slices of homemade bread   
(because I am just Betty flaming Crocker that way, no, actually, it’s because Tony reacts to just about every preservative there is in generic breads, sends him hyper, and he can’t sleep for days, LORD, nobody needs to deal with him like that, it’s. a. nightmare!) and put a few other bits and pieces, like cutlery, out on the tray, and headed down stairs to the workshop and Tony.  
I got to door and found that it was locked for all personnel, I thought about that for a moment, did I respect my friend’s wishes to be left alone, or did I find a way around the lock out.  
I found a way around the lock out.

 

“Jarvis, could you please unlock the door, and before you say that I am not authorized to enter, keep in mind that I am the housekeeper, I have full access to all areas of the mansion in order to do my job, I am sure that you are smart enough to find me one.” There was a quiet moment as Jarvis mulled over my less than subtle squ-if on entrance.   
“Miss West, I have located some rather dirty clothes that you will have to take upstairs to be taken to the drycleaners tomorrow morning, it would of course be very practical for you to get them now before they are damaged or forgotten, how very convenient for you that the door is now unlocked, because you have clearance to all parts of the mansion to complete you job to the best of your abilities.”

 

There was a definite smirk to the AI’s voice. “Thank you Jarvis, it may be best that if Tony asks how I got in, we don’t tell him by side-tracking him in some way or other, wouldn’t you think?”  
“Oh, undoubtedly madam, I am sure that we should like to use this trick again in the future, shall I open the door for you seeing that you have your hands full?”

“Once again, thank you.” The door swung inwards and I strode in with the tray. It did not take Tony long to smell the food and surface from under his car, or what appeared to be left of it. I set the tray down on one of the clearer benches and proceeded to drag two bench chairs over so we could sit as we ate. 

Tony came over wiping his hand on an old rag, looking confused and a little impresses. “I have no idea how you got Jarvis to let you in, but you are obviously far more canny with high tech equipment that I first presumed. This smells good.” 

“Dinner.” I said simply and gestures for him to take a seat at the bench across from me. Quiet descended for a while as Tony tucked into his meal, he really was hungry, I had figured he would be only too upset to notice. In the mean time I ate and weighted for what I was sure would rise in his own good time.

“What on earth is wrong with them!” he exploded suddenly, when his plate was half empty. “I mean, can’t they just suck it up and admit that they need Ironman’s help? Why do they have to beat me with a barbed stick all the time when it comes to dealing with their own mess? I’m trying to do the right thing here! I’m trying to help people, to save lives, doesn’t that mean anything to them; doesn’t that stand for something? Forget that! They just see me as a crazy man-skank with too much money and not enough sense for my, or anyone else’s good. A disaster waiting to happen that kill’s everyone in the process. Nothing I do seems to make any difference, people still see me as a maniac, people are still dying, and it’s still my fault, and I have no idea how to fix that…”

 

I looked at him for a long moment, he sat staring at his hands where they rested on the table, like the calluses on his palms where the answer to his problem. He lifted his head to meet my gaze, he looked so lost, and in one terrifying moment I realised that he was not only very torn up about this, but that he genuinely needed someone to tell him it would be ok, and that not everyone thought he was a disaster waiting to happen. 

 

So I did, in my own way.

 

I reached across the table and rubbed his shoulder gently. 

“Tony, people are always looking for someone to blame in all this mess; and you’re an easy target because you are in the public eye, and because of how you use to be. There are always going to be people like that, sadly, that’s just the way things are. But you can’t let that stop you from being Ironman, from being GOOD." 

“Things are hard; but you knew that this sort of thing would happen when you announced you were Ironman. These people can say all they want, it’s not true, you know that, so don’t let them win their little spitting match here Tony, you’re better than that. You don’t have to fix anything; you just have to do your part to help, you’re doing good, Tony, in a few weeks the media will be back to complaining about dog poop in the central park, and about how rabbit infestation are on the rise; that’s just how they run. They’ll make something out of anything. And for what it’s worth, know that Pepper and I are both really, truly, proud of you. You’ve changed Tony; know that; because the change has been for the better, for everyone.”

 

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and started to turn back to the hot-rod, he spoke as he picked up a wrench. “You really mean that? I mean the part about the change being for the better, and the proud of me part, cause if you’re messing with me, that’s just nasty, since, you know, no one has ever, sort’a been proud of me, well except Abe, and he tried to kill me, you’re not gonna,…no, good, thanks, by the way, for, you know, being sneaky, and getting Jarvis to let you in, you, you uh…helped.”

 

Naww, he was kind’a cute when he was all awkward and vulnerable, like a small puppy, starved of affection, and friends with non-homicidal tendencies. 

 

Poor bloke.

 

“That’s all right Tony, and just in case it never occurred to you, because I don’t think it has, you don’t have to deal with this all alone, I’m here to talk to if you ever need, or want to.”  
Tony smiled at me, not the fake one that he used for photo shoots and public events, but the real one, the one that was sort of crooked and made his dimples stand out and eyes dance with mischief. The real Tony Stark smile, that I had heard from the reliable source of Miss Pepper Potts, he only graced to show two people. 

 

“Don’t stay up too late, you have to be in Manhattan tomorrow remember, Pepper will be there.” I said as I gathered dinner things to take back to the kitchen. Tony would be alright, Pepper would see to that, now that the ball was rolling, but I would give her a call later and let her know how everything had been anyway. 

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helen goes to Manhattan for a holiday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, this is Feather again, you have to remember that this is all about Helen's perspective on events, so things might not be cannon or comic verse alining. Just read it as it is, have fun, and leave a comment if you can. cheers.

‘You’ll love Manhattan, Helen.’ He said.

‘It’s going to be great!’ He said.

‘There will be nothing to worry about.’ He said

Well, BLOODY HELL TONY!!! I can think of a few things that could be counted as putting a dampener on my trip to Manhattan, how about, oh, I know, a dammed alien invasion, how about that! Because as it stood, I was not loving Manhattan, it was not great, and there were freaking ALIENS everywhere, so as one might imagine, I was somewhat, worried.

ALIENS, I tell you, for the love of all that is sane, only in America could this happen. 

ALIENS!?

 

This had all started when Tony had insisted I come out to the Island of Manhattan, “to come and have a look around” the new Stark tower that had at last been completed. I had been somewhat reluctant at first, suspecting that this was merely an elaborate plot to get me away from my car, so that the billionaire could try to destroy the battered old vehicle, which was showing to be amazingly resilient against all of his attempts of sabotage. 

Got’a love the old car.

But he assured me that my car would be safe, for now, on the condition that I did come and see his marvels new creation, but that if I didn’t, he would strap a nuke to the engine bay carry it into out to space, and then watch the pretty colour as it exploded into a million billion particles of radioactive shrapnel that would forever drift in the reses of space. And then see how resilient it was.

The man was such a sore loser sometimes; and I couldn’t even ask Jarvis if he was telling the truth because he wanted the car gone too. The two of them were in cahoots. Apparently Jarvis felt offended that a piece of machinery could look like that and still function, but especially because it was so old, he was unable to track, connect, or talk to me via it.

But as it where I decided to trust them, (Tony, Pepper and Jarvis) and make the trip to Manhattan to see the new tower; only things went a little weird after my arrival; starting with the fact that when I arrived, there was nobody at the tower. This did not really worry me; I figured that maybe Tony and Pepper had gone to lunch somewhere; I decided to just make myself comfortable in the pent house and wait them out. The flight had been rather long and trying to my limited ability to sit around doing nothing. 

But after a few hours of exploring the tower, (and I really only spent that long doing so because I got lost a few times.) I got pretty sick of being on my own; which was odd, really considering how I use to like it that way, but can’t stand it for too long now.

I decided to go down and have a look about the city, I grabbed one of the touch pads on the coffee table so that Jarvis could give me directions to where ever I wanted to get to, popped it into my bag, wacked on my comfy pair of Jim-boots, and headed out into the city.

It was a lovely day, not a cloud in the sky; I had managed to procrastinate away a good six hours or so just pottering about in different shops and cafes. To my surprise I was really enjoying my time around the big bustling city; that was until an enormous rip in space open above the city, and monsters out of a crack head’s nightmare started pouring out of it. 

I was one of the first people around me to notice, see, most people don’t look up, but at 4 ft. 8 inch’s, looking up is second nature to me. I stared at them in horrified fascination for a moment, trying to wrap my head around what I was seeing. 

(Which was, just so you know, freaky as all hell.) 

I recovered faster than many of those around me; I reached into my bag and pulled out the touch tablet. “Jarvis,” I said, panic coming through in my voice “some…some, thing just appeared in the sky; and now THINGS are coming out of it, and they don’t look friendly, AT ALL!!! What exactly is going on here?” 

As I spoke I was scanning the area for a safer more covered place to be having this discussion as people around me started to panic. The sound of things exploding could now be heard in the distance, along with the screams of people in their wake. 

Jarvis’s voice floated weakly from the touch pad in my hands. “I’m sorry Miss West, I am having trouble accessing my main frame at the moment from this hand held device; there is a great deal of interference coming from the anomaly you just described, and despite this being a Stark product, my signal is too week, perhaps we may have better luck if you got to some place higher.”  
I snorted in distaste; I was not going to get up higher for any reason other than immanent peril, because the higher up I was, the closer the flying ‘things’ were, so thanks but no thanks, I think I would just find a nice secure place to hide and hope not to have it bombed to smithereens. 

I stuck close to the side of buildings so that I would be less likely to be run over by people panicking like headless chooks all about the place, not that I blamed them, not at all, I would have very much liked to panic at that moment, but my ever present common sense reminded that panic never helped anyone in a disaster, which was what this was all shaping up to be.   
“Miss West, I though you would like to know that I have managed to connect to the mainframe at stark tower and have been able to analyze the anomaly above the city, the news is not at all good, Helen.”

Oh bother, Jarvis called me Helen, I was obviously completely screwed and probably going to die horribly.

Jarvis continued, unaware of my inner turmoil; “The anomaly above you is a portal or gateway into another dimension and part of space. It would appear that they are trying to take over the world as it were, also, they appear to be using Stark tower as a key base of some kind, so I recommend not returning there in an attempt to find safety, I can however recommend several different and structurally sound places of refuge.”

I stared at the screen in disbelief. Portal to another universe, had I just heard Jarvis correctly, “Jarvis,” I said numbly “did I just hear you correctly, are you telling me, that Manhattan, is being invaded by…ALIENS???”

“I am afraid so Helen.”

He used my first name again; this was really, really happening then. Oh, Dear…

“Crap.”

“Quite so Miss.”

“So if I can’t go back to the tower, then were should I go?”

“There is a building four city blocks away, it’s an FBI safe house, it is reinforced against bombs and artillery attack, it should do to keep you safe if you can avoid attention getting there, it uses Stark security, I can get you in with no difficulty, I suggest that you take the older back streets, they are narrower and I have just received information from Mr Stark that the alien flight devices cannot bank well, so they tend to avoid tight, narrow places. If you follow the map on the screen you should get there with relative ease, considering the circumstance.”  
I began to make my way along the old streets when a horrible thought came to mind; “Jarvis, were are Tony and Pepper? Are they safe?”

“Mr Stark is operating as Ironman at the immediate moment, and so, is very decidedly, not safe. But you will be pleased to know that Miss Potts was called away on business suddenly late last night and is currently on her way to LA for a meeting with the board, and is for now, safe, now if you would please, Helen, I would advise a swift pace, as my area scans detect hostel ground activity fast closing in on you location.”

My stomach twisted in a knot of fear as I broke into a sprint. I had hoped to avoid them by outrunning them but from the sounds coming from behind, I was pushing my luck.

Also, I wished Jarvis would stop calling me Helen, it was weird, and made me freak out a little bit each time.

I shot around a tight corner and came out onto an open street, glancing down at the map on the touch pad, I saw that I needed to get across the open boulevard and into one of the narrow back allies that came off one of the side roads, on the other side a hundred meters to my right. The sky was thick with grey skinned aliens and I could see at least two ground crews making their way in my direction. I had to go now, if I waited any longer for a better chance, then I was very likely going to be spotted, and if what they were doing to the car’s was any indication of what they would do to me, then I was not going to risk standing around to test the theory.

I looked sharply around for covered spots along my path to the side road. Cars, there were plenty of them left abandoned on the road, I could use those, good, some collapsed building and rubble a little further along , I could use that too. I needed to move quickly but carefully, too fast and soon and I would draw attention to myself. 

I would have to be swift and smooth; I mapped out exactly where I needed to go, four cars along, a short move to rubble pile, two cars across, then two down, and then another rubble pile. That would leave me with about a six meter run without cover, but there was nothing around the side road to find cover behind so it would have to do.  
I kept low as I moved, it was easier for me being little that it would be for some else. I was pretty good at moving around without attracting attention; I had done it for nearly five years right under Tony’s nose and now the practice came in handy.

I drifted across like a ghost; the only problem came at the end when it got to the six meters without cover, my heart pounded with a mixture of fear and adrenaline. I took a few deep breaths and shot out from my cover towards the side street. As soon as I broke cover I heard barking shouts of alarm; I’d been spotted.

Blue fire like blasts shot past me as I made for the street. There might be a lot of aliens but it looked like they were complete dunces when it came to aiming, thank goodness!  
I made it into the side street and kept up the bolt run in case the aliens decided to follow, I skidded into the ally off of the road and was glad to see that it was winding rather than straight, that would have been like asking them to use me as target practice; which I did not want to do in the least, really truly.

A quick glance at the touch pad assured me that I was heading in the right direction. After a minute the ally came out on another wide street. This one with less cover than the last, but there were also less aliens. There was less haste getting across this time, the street I needed was pretty much right across from me.  
Two blocks down, two to go.

Two right turns and a sharp left I was at another crossing, this part of the city had seen some heavy action, and it sort of reminded me of how a Lego city looked after an angry child got to it, bitts ripped off and strewn across the place, it was frightening at how casual the destruction seemed. 

Smoke drifted across the air from some of the buildings that lined the road and some of the burning car wrecks. Like with the first two street crossings I planned out my path, the cover was good here because of all of the destruction and rubble lying about. I was near half way across when I saw her.

There was a woman crouched next to a car that was on its side and near crushed with fallen masonry from the surrounding buildings; I could hear her speaking softly and fervently and even though I couldn’t hear individual words, I could gather that there was someone trapped inside.

I looked quickly about to check that my coming over to the woman would not attract attention to her, but as luck would have it the grey fleshed aliens seemed to be heading out to some sort of commotion further off. 

I moved to her position as quickly as I could, she looked at me with wide frightened eyes as I crouched down next to her. She started speaking as soon as she realised I wasn’t a threat and was likely there to help, “Please, oh please, my sister is stuck inside, she was waiting in the car, we just needed milk, she didn’t want to have to climb out, so I got out and went to get it, I was only around the corner, she’s pregnant, please, oh god, please I don’t know what to do.” She was sobbing with her distress when she finished.

My heart twisted in my chest, “what’s her name.” I asked forcing my voice to stay steady and calm. “Becky, and I’m Sophie, are you going to help us?”   
I swallowed hard “I’m going to try to Sophie, I really am.” 

I turned to the car and called gently “Becky, can you hear me, my name is Helen, I’m here with your sister; can you tell me if you’re hurt or stuck?” There was a moment of quiet and I was terrified that the poor woman inside would not answer, then faintly, I heard a week voice,  
“I’m hurt, I think my leg is broken, it really hurts, are you going to help? Is there anyone else with you that can get me out of here?”

I swallowed, and made a quick decision, I would not lie to Becky; “No, it’s just me for now, but I am going to go and get help, your sister will stay here with you and make sure that you’re ok, I need you to keep talking to her, Becky, tell how you are, if you notice any other pain, we need to know that your conscious, so just keep talking, ok, I’ll be back, I promise.”  
I turned back to Sophie and said in a low voice; “the same goes for you, you need to keep her talking, it will help stem the shock some, and help her to keep calm, I am going to go get help, I might be a while, but I will come back, I won’t just leave you hear.”

She nodded at me and turned back to the wreck to do just as I had said. I stood up and held the touch pad before me; “Jarvis new plan, we need to find some emergency help, the kind that can get rubble off cars to rescue pregnant women, so what have you got for me?”  
“According to S.H.I.L.D.E communications they appear to have a heavy unit operating on the next block over, you could check and see they might assist you, I have calculated you the safest route there and set it on your map.”

“Thanks Jarvis, good to know you have my back.”

I set off quickly for my new destination; somewhere along the way I vaguely noted that the level of destruction seemed to increase the closer I got to my target. When I rounded the last bend and was confronted with the cause of some of the destruction I was not prepared for it in the least, I mean I had seen some odd things hanging out with Tony, but dang if this didn’t top it. 

Before me, beating the living daylights out of every and any grey skinned alien within reach was a giant, GREEN, man. 

“Jarvis,” I asked as I held up the clear touch pad so that the camera leans got a clear view of the GIANT, GREEN, MAN; “what, or, who, is that?” 

There was a brief moment as Jarvis analyzed the image against those in his database.

“That Miss West, is Dr Bruce Banner, or at the moment, I believe they call him the Hulk, it appears that I misunderstood the transition, Dr Banner IS the heavy unit.”

I looked hard at the (man?) before me, I had heard stories about Dr Banner, not all of them bad, not all of them good; but from what I could see, he didn’t seem to be just destroying things mindlessly, he appeared quite set on killing as many of the invading aliens as possible, and didn’t appear to harm any of the flighty, panicking civilians that ran past on the opposite side of the street, in fact he seemed to go out of his way not to harm them.

“Jarvis, who’ side is he on, theirs or ours?” I asked tensely. 

“As far I can tell, ours, why? If I may ask what are you planning Miss West?” Jarvis sounded concerned, he had good reason to.

“I am thinking that he looks really strong, and right now I need strong, and if he’s on our side, he might just help us.”   
“Miss I strongly advise against that course of action, Dr Banner is notoriously volatile in this state; his mind is its most animalistic form as he is, approaching him is a very dangerous plan!”  
“Well if you have a better one that can be orchestrated before some grey aliens find that poor woman and her trapped sister, I am all ears.” I said somewhat hopefully.

Jarvis was quiet.

“Too bad,” I sighed, “I really didn’t fancy risking my life on my crazy plan, I was actually hoping you had a better one.”

“No, I am Sorry Miss West, and good luck, if I may say so, if anyone can do it, you can.”

“I wish I felt that way, but thanks anyway.”

I waked out towards the great GREEN man with a steady even pace, my heart beating a thundering rhythm in my chest. I watched grimly as he smashed the last two grey aliens that surrounded him into each other with a roar of fury. I was trembling all over, I was so scared; I really, really wanted to throw up too. I forced myself to take deep even breaths, in, out, in, out, one to each step until I was only a few meters from him. 

Calm I though, I have to be calm, if he is like an animal, my being panicked will not help in the least. So I forced myself to calm down and by a shear act of will stoped my trembling. I was within reaching distance now, well his reach any way, and it suddenly occurred to me that I had no idea how to broach the subject of rescue to the enormous GREEN man.   
Well, when in doubt, or desperate, which I was anyway, so no problem there, be polite.

“Excuse me,” As soon as I spoke the GREEN man wiped round to face me with such breathtaking speed that he was a partial blur; and if that didn’t freak me out enough, he roared in my face, and for a horrible moment I thought I was going to faint of terror.

I took a deep shuddering breath to try and regain myself, and noted that the air smelled strongly of…of…lickerish? It was surprisingly nice actually, I loved lickerish. I was so startled by the sent, that it had an instantaneous calming effect on me, which was not at all the intention of the roar, I suspect.   
“Oh,” I said “Do you like lickerish?” Which was clearly, not, the reaction that the green man was used to, because he looked so utterly confused it was almost sweet.(In a terrifying GIANT GREEN MAN sort of way.) He was probably more accustomed to people screaming and wetting themselves, which is, in all fairness, quite understandable. 

He stooped to get a better look at me as he scratched his head in bewildered confusion. “HULK LIKE LICKERISH, BRUCE LIKE LICKERISH, NOT EVER ASKED BEFORE THOUGH! YOU STRAGE, VERY LITTLE PERSON.”

I thought about that for a moment and decided that the Hulk was probably right; nobody can work for Tony stark in close proximity for five years and not be a little strange. “Yes, probably.” I said philosophically. 

“Listen;” I said as I tugged a lose bit of hair behind my ear nervously. “I really need your help, I know that you have no reason to trust me, but there is a woman stuck in a car about half a block back, she’s pregnant, you know going to have a baby.” I made a cradling and rocking motion with my arms to emphasise my meaning.  
“We can’t get her out; we need someone who is very strong to help, but not to hurt her.”

“HULK SRONG, HULK SMACK LITTLE THUNDER GOD GOOD, HULK HELP STRANGE, VERY LITTLE PERSON RESCUE FAT WOMAN. THEN STRANGE LITTLE PERSON ASK MORE QUESTIONS, AND EAT LICKERISK WITH HULK, GOOD.”

“What? Wait, no she’s not fat…she’s, oh never mind, and I’m not that little…to…everyone, normal size, and did you, no don’t worry about it, we’ll deal with that when we get to it.”

I was really, really glad that the Hulk had decided to help me rescue Becky, but I was a little confused as to what was supposed to happen afterwards, I wasn’t certain but I was pretty sure that I had just been hit on by a giant GREEN man. 

Well that tops the weird O’ meeter.

I gestured for the Hulk to follow as I turned and ran back towards where Sophie and her trapped sister Becky were. The Hulk followed contentedly behind much to my relief. My relief was short lived, when we came into sight of the two sisters’ location, I saw a group of grey aliens hurriedly making their way towards them weapons drawn. 

“Hulk, look, over there! I cried and pointed at the advancing enemy, but I needn’t have concerned myself, the Hulk was already leaping forward with incredible speed and proceeded to demolish the ranks with an almost contemptuous ease. 

When he had finished, he turned back to me looking a little concerned, “HULK HELP VERY LITTLE PERSON, YES? VERY LITTLE PERSON NOT HURT?”  
I blinked and nodded quickly “Yes you did wonderfully Hulk, very well, you were a very good help, now I need you to help me to get the lady out of the car, carefully and get her to other people and safety, will you do that?”

Hulk nodded thoughtfully, “YES, HULK GET LADY OUT, GET HER TO OTHER PEOPLE, THEN VERY LITTLE PERSON BE HAPPY, EAT LICKERISH WITH HULK.”

 

He was very set on having me eat lickerish with him, but if it got Becky out of the car and to safety, I was pretty sure that I would have a three course meal with the guy if it got him to help.  
If only other guys, not so GREEN were as persistent; wouldn’t that be something.

I guided him over to where Sophie and her sister were; the other woman looked up at us and made a strangled noise of alarm when her eyes fell on the great GREEN man that followed behind me. Hulk was not impressed by her response and bared his teeth at her; I sensed that if I didn’t do something, things could go bad from here. I reached out to Hulk and gently laid my hand soothingly over a very little part of his own, the touch seemed to do the trick, and the Hulk seemed to settle a little.

“It’s okay Sophie, he’s on our side, and is here to help, his name is, arr, Hulk, he’s going to get you sister out of that wreck, he’ll be very careful, don’t worry, everything will be alright.”  
I said with a soothing, confidence I was not sure I felt. Sophie just nodded cautiously and made way for Hulk to set to work on removing the wreckage. But before he got started I knelt down and called into the car. 

 

“Becky, this is Helen, I’m back and I’ve brought help with me, he’s a little odd to look at, but he’s a friend so I need you not to panic when you see him, that will upset him, we don’t want that, ok; He’s going to get you out of there so don’t worry, your sister and I are right here.”

“Okay;” came the faint and strained response. “It’s ok, I won’t panic, just so long as I get out of here in one piece, I’ll be grateful to whoever helps, no matter how strange they look.”   
I nodded satisfied and stepped back to let the big GREEN man do his work. I watched in wonder as he reached out with enormous green hands and started lifting the wreckage with grace and ease, clearly being careful not to harm the delicate occupant with in the metal shell of the car.

It took only a few short moments for Hulk to clear the Rubble, he then began to rip back the metal casing on the vehicle in a similar fashion I would a banana peel. It was quite remarkable. When at last we could see Becky with in and she us, I was much relieved when she stayed true to her word and did not panic. Instead she smiled up at Hulk and asked him very nicely if he could reach down and pull the dash back because it was pinning her legs. I nodded in approval and admiration at her bravery.

Hulk reached down, and with a delicacy I did not know anyone so large could possess, pulled the dash back to un-pin the wounded woman, he then very gently wriggled his hands around to cradle her and brought her close to his chest. It took me a moment to realise he was mimicking the gesture I had used to show a baby.

 

“YOU SAY HULK TAKE WOMAN TO SAFTY, HULK DO THAT NOW, BUT VERY LITTLE PERSON COME TOO, AND OTHER WOMAN, BAD TO STAY HERE. YOU COME WITH HULK NOW.”

 

He moved behind Sophie and me and started herding us down the street, all the while keeping a wary look out for any threats and danger around us.  
I pulled the touch pad out from my bag again, “Jarvis I need you to locate the nearest place we can take a wounded pregnant woman so she can get medical help.” 

“There is a small medical clinic on fifth, one block over to your right that has become an impromptu hospital with doctors gathering there to assist the wounded, it is being protected by S.H.I.E.L.D and is relatively out of the way of the main battle, I recommend taking them there, the map is on screen for you.”  
“We are going to a medical clinic, we’ll be safe there, will you follow me there Hulk?”

 

“HULK FOLLOW VERY LITTLE PERSON, MAKE SURE SHE SAFE, THEN HULK GO SMASH THINGS AND HELP OTHER FRIENDS, GOOD.”

 

I nodded and took the lead towards the clinic, the trip was blessedly uneventful. Just as Jarvis had said there was a SHIELD perimeter around the clinic, the look on their faces when they spotted us coming was rather something to remember. Bewilderment combined with dumfounded disbelief. We stood outside the perimeter, unsure whether or not we were allowed to enter, I did not want the agents to think that the Hulk was a threat, and open fire on us. But I had no way of knowing how they felt about the giant green man carrying a wounded woman into a medical clinic.  
Hulk was unimpressed with their frozen response and vocalised it with a tremendous, (lickerish scented) roar, and bared his teeth in a fearsome scowl. The agents came out of their daze with a start, and to my alarm I saw many of them level weapons at him. 

 

“No,” I called out stepping forward with my hands held up as if to shield the enormous man behind me; “It’s all right, he won’t hurt you, he helped us. He just wants someone to come and take the woman he’s carrying so that she can get some medical attention, he’s not a danger to you, at least, he won’t be if you don’t start shooting at him.”

I stepped back to Hulk and reached up and patted his forearm soothingly, talking to him gently as I guided him forward with his precious cargo. “It’s alright, I’m sure that they didn’t mean to be rude to you like that, they’re just jumpy because of everything that’s happening right now, they won’t hurt you, you were just helping us, they can see that now, it’s ok, I’m here, I won’t let them hurt you if I can help it.”

Hulk shot the agents suspicious glances, but he seemed to visibly calm and proceeded to follow me forward. At an order form their commander, I saw the agents lower their weapons much to my relief. Two agents and a doctor met us at the clinic door with a hospital trundle bed. The man looked pail with fear when confronted with the enormity of Hulk, but his voice was soothing and calm as he asked the hulk very nicely if he could put the lady in his arms carefully down onto the bed.

Hulk was very careful indeed and from Becky’s face, she felt only a very little discomfort from the transaction from arms to bed. She was quickly wheeled inside the clinic with her sister hovering close behind after a word of thanks to myself, and to his pleasure, Hulk.

“YOU SAFE HERE,” boomed Hulk to me when the doors swung shut on the two sisters; “YOU STAY HERE, HULK GO HELP OTHERS NOW, HULK FIND YOU LATTER, EAT LICKERISH, GOOD, STAY NOW!”

 

Then he was gone in a blur of power and speed. An agent came over to me, there was an expression of awe on his face; “Was it just me miss, or did the Hulk just tell you he was going to eat sweets with you later?”

I sighed as I tried to brush unruly strands of loose hair out of my eyes; “Yeah, he keeps doing that…I’m not sure what it means though, is he always that friendly?”  
The agents eyes winded, “Good grief NO, I’ve never seen him act like that before, mostly he just wants to wreak stuff and smash things, what did you do?”

I frowned at the agent thoughtfully, truthfully I had no idea what I had done to intrigue Hulk so much, after a moment I said hesitantly; “I, was, nice to him? I don’t know, he didn’t seem all that bad, to be honest I though he was sort of sweet. I have no idea why he seems to…to like me.”

The agent just shook his head in wonder, “Well you did something, because I’ve been on Hulk watch for near two years now, and whenever he gets like he was when all the agents levelled guns at him, nothing calms him down, but you did, by patting his arm no less! You Miss, are something remarkable.”

I had never really been called remarkable before, and it seemed strange now to be called it for patting a large green arm; “Erm…thanks?” I said hesitantly as the agent turned to leave.  
“Don’t thank me, we should be thanking you, if Hulk had gone ape, then we would probably all be finished, thanks to you we weren’t, you should probably go inside it will be safer in there.”  
I nodded and did as I was bid, glad to let some of my guard down knowing that I didn’t have to be the one in control anymore, and that other people were out there to keep me safe. 

 

After a moment of enjoying not having to immediately fear for my life, I decided that I was going to have a little chat with Tony when this was all over, provided we survived, about how I was rather miffed about this whole event, and tell him that I would likely never travel from my dreary grey little apartment after this, what I was calling, The Manhattan Fiasco. 

 

{:oOo:}

 

I never did have that little chat with Tony, it never seemed right to after everything that had happened. When I arrived back at the tower after Jarvis told me it was safe to, since the enemy had been pushed back to their own galaxy by Tony and a nuclear bomb (resulting in his near death) I found that just about everything had been trashed to oblivion.  
And was that a person shape mashed into the cement?

Tony was seated in his armour on one of the slightly less destructed couches with a drink in hand, he was surrounded by a strange group of people in some form of exhausted recline, each with his or in one case her, own drink. 

 

They all looked like hell.

 

“Tony,” I said hesitantly “are you Okay? Is everything all right, do you need anything?” At the sound of my voice the group looked up as a whole, and for a brief moment I found myself the target of three guns, an arrow, a hammer and an unfired plasma blast. Not to mention one very acidic glare from a strange man in green robes and what I took to be restraining devises   
Tony was the first to stop aiming a weapon at my head. “Sorry Helen didn’t mean to nearly blast you to smithereens there, its ok guys she’s with me; guys this is Helen, Helen, this is Steve, Clint, Natasha, Thor and sourpuss over there is defeated villain Loki, and Bruce, who you will meet later, is getting clothes on at the moment elsewhere.” I was glad that at this point the weapons had been re-holstered and lowered, and their holders returned to their deceivingly relaxed positions.

 

I looked around at the tired group wanting to be of some use, but unsure as how to go about being so. “Does anyone want anything to eat; you must be hungry after all that?” I asked, unsure how the suggestion would be received. (To honest I sort of felt like an idiot for the offer, but had no idea what else to do in the circumstance.) To my relief it was with grateful and enthusiastic assent. 

I went into the mostly intact kitchen and started to put together a big garden salad, and piecing together a few other things that didn’t need to be cooked (because we had no power.) to form a meal fit to feed a group of hungry people, all in all I did a good job, there were two cold chickens, a big salad, a few paster dishes that I threw together form leftovers, some sausages that I had cooked before I had gone out on my rather disasters adventure intending to make a curry with them, and a few cheesecakes’ and a bucket of chocolate ice-cream. I had just finished tossing the salad when I heard someone enter the kitchen.

 

It was Tony. “I’m sorry.” He said, pain and regret clear in his voice; “I bullied you into coming to Manhattan thinking that I could show you how cleaver I was, how wonderful my tower was, and show off by giving you the best holiday you ever had, instead I dragged you into a city that got invaded by aliens and almost nuked into nonexistence, it’s my fault and I’m sorry, I never meant for you to be in danger.”

I gave Tony a long hard look.

“Let me ask you a few questions Tony and you have to answer me honestly here, did you, when you first invited me to come see the tower, ever think that Manhattan would be overrun by ALIENS?”

“NO;” said Tony promptly.

“And did you ever, suspect that this over-running of Manhattan would just happen to occur the day I arrived? Hmm?

“Again, no, but you…”

I cut him off. “Final question, did you in any way plan, and desire, the dominion of earth by evil invading aliens?”

“NO!” said Tony passionately, “If I wanted to rule the world I would just buy it in a legitimate business transaction.”

I quirked a brow at him, and he just shrugged non-apologetically.

“My point is, Tony, that you really had no way of firmly knowing what was going to happen, you don’t need to apologise to me, you saved me just the same as you save everyone else in the city by risking your life stopping that nuke.”

I leant back against the bench and looked my friend square in the eye, “stop beating yourself up over what happened, it wasn’t your fault.”

“But I forgot you!” he said desperately.

 

So this is what this was all about. 

 

I sighed quietly and shook my head slowly. “Tony, you were saving the world! Nobody but you expects you to concentrate on anything but that when you are at it, and you didn’t know it, but you did help me, I had a touch pad with me, and Jarvis was using all the data from your communications and readings to help me keep safe, if it weren’t for you I would have never known which streets weren’t overrun by aliens. So, would you please stop the self-hate, and instead help me take all this food out to your friends so that we can eat, then you should call Pepper, actually scratch that, call Pepper now if you haven’t, I’ll carry this myself.”

 

Tony smiled wanly at me and grabbed a bowl of coleslaw “I called her as soon as everything was in the all clear, so I’ll give you a hand.”

There was a short few moments of chaos as we set the food out with the help of some of the others and found plausible seats for ourselves. Then the room (what was left of it anyway) was filled with people enjoying a meal after a long hard day, and the occasional request to pass something. 

I was about to comment about the spare plate that remained un-clamed, when a man entered the room from one of the side rooms, he was about Tony’s height and had dark, slightly wavy hair that looked as if it would be very soft to touch, his build was solid and rather stocky. His eyes were a deep rich brown set below a compelling brow; his nose was strait and attractive. He had a clean shaven, chiseled jaw with a slight cleft in his chin, his mouth was warm with the lower lip slightly fuller than the top, when those lips curled up into a shy and sweet smile when he saw that we was saved a spot, I couldn’t help but think how nice it would be If I had a chance to get to know this man better.

It was odd, but in some way he looked familiar, I just couldn’t put my finger on who he reminded me of…

 

“Bruce, over here we saved a place for you, and I even managed to wrestle a few sausages out of Thor’s grasp for you, you better come and eat them before he thinks he can get at them and this becomes a war.” Said the hansom blond man called Steve in a happy and friendly manner.

“Oh,” said the dark hared man shyly as he seated himself at the table “Thanks, for that, I’m pretty hungry; actually, I think we both are.” He said with a faint wince.

“Would you like some salad and chicken? They are both up this end of the bench at the moment but we can pass them down to you.” I said.

The man looked up sharply at me, confusion written on his face. I smiled at him in a friendly way and gestured at the bowl in front of me, “It’s got olives in it, I hope you don’t mind, I know there isn’t heaps of it but there is desert afterwards, cheesecake and ice-cream, oh and some sweets if you want to add them to the mix, Clint spotted them before, skittles and liquorish strips.”  
Bruce leapt to his feet with a cry of alarm, startling everyone at the makeshift bar table. (several of them drew weapons.) 

 

“Holy C@#$, it’s you!” he exclaimed. I stared at him in bemusement, as did everyone else.

“I’m who exactly?” I asked carefully.

“You’re the lickerish girl, the really, really little one who got the other guy to help you rescue that pregnant woman form being trapped in the car!”

My jaw dropped is stunned wonder. “Hulk?!!!” I cried in surprise. The others were looking back and forth between us with open confusion.

“What exactly is going on here?” asked the sharped eyed archer Clint.

“Oh yes, do tell!” said Tony eagerly.

“You must share this most curious tail with us friend, as you have all of our interests.” Thor said as he lent forward on the table in preparation for a good story.

Natasha just looked between the two of us, and quirked a brow elegantly.

Steve made an encouraging gesture for one of us to begin. 

 

“Uh, well, I can’t really tell you what happened exactly, I only remember bits of it all;” began Bruce suddenly very unsure of himself. “I remember the other guy, well, uh, roaring at her with enough force to blast her hair strait back, and then her asking him if he liked lickerish…I can safely say, that has never happened before, and it made a bit of an impression on him, the other guy.”

I shrugged “You, I mean, he, smelt like lickerish.”

Bruce looked at me incredulously, “So you asked him if he Liked Lickerish?”

“Why not?” I asked “He didn’t seem to mind. In fact he said that you both like it.”

Bruce looked rather stunned; “He did?”

“Yep; why? Is it not true?” I asked curiously.

“Um, as a matter of fact, yes actually, I am very fond of lickerish, as it were; I’m just surprised that he spoke to you, most of the time his vocabulary consists of roaring and the words smash and crush.” Bruce’s expression was one of fascinated confusion.

“Really?” I asked thoughtfully “Because he seemed pretty chatty to me, he kept telling me that I was very little, which you just did again yourself before, and that later we were going to eat lickerish together, respectively, it was odd, not bad; just odd”

 

Bruce’s jaw dropped, “He did noo…oh no, wait, your right, he did…I remember that bit, actually, those several bits…”  
He trailed off to look down at his large manly hands all the while blushing furiously.

It was so gosh-darn cute!

Everyone around the table was highly amused by this confession form the bashful man, and took a moment to enjoy his discomfort. It was Steve who was the one to discreetly and smoothly change the subject and get the conversation rolling again. 

As the others talked I gazed at Bruce discreetly with a fascination that was rare in me. It wasn’t that he could apparently turn into a giant GREEN man that got me, so much as it was, that this seemingly docile man with a sweet smile and warm eyes was the one doing the changing at all. 

I had liked the Hulk, he had his own volatile sort of niceness, but Bruce was a different matter, I openly admitted to myself that I was attracted to the man; he was clever, sweet, deliciously awkward, distractingly handsome and stunningly unaware of his own charms.

I had never really had a crush or fancy in my life, not like my sisters or any of my friends had, sure, I found people attractive; but the admiration was the same sort of appreciation I had for anything aesthetically pleasing, like a painting, flowers, a nice view, or well-made instrument. But with Bruce there was a very strong and sudden attraction that startled me more than a little.  
I made a mental note that I would have to be rather careful not to make a complete twat of myself around him, by staring at him like a love sick heifer. That in its self could be a hard thing, because I really did like to look at the man.

The rest of the night passed with little or no unusual activity and by the time a SHIELD quin-jet arrived with a very sour one eyed individual, plus team to collect the prisoner for holding it was rather late, and I was very tired.

Tony made some swift introductions between said sour, one eyed man (Nick Fury) and myself, and another woman in one of those leather/spandex that SHIELD agents wore, (Robin, didn’t-catch-her-last-name) before I politely excused myself to find a quiet place not covered in glass shards to curl up and go to sleep while they conducted whatever business they had at the tower.

 

{:oOo:}

 

I woke later that evening to an odd sound disturbing the night; climbing off the ruined couch I followed the sound out onto the balcony, Tony was sitting out there on his own with a bottle of jinn; by the looks of things, the bottle was still mostly full, so he wasn’t drunk. I slipped out and sat next to him silently, waiting. 

Waiting to see if he needed me here with him.

 

“He killed him, that piece of...” he sniffed and swallowed hard; “Loki Killed Coulson…the man was annoying, he always had to do things by the book, but he was a good man, a really good man, and now he…and I was such a pratt to him…we went surfing together sometimes you know, he was honest with me, as much as he could be…I liked him.”

I knew what he meant, what he didn’t say; Coulson had been a friend. One of the precious few Tony let into his inner circle, and he had died in the fight, and Tony was grieving for him. I didn’t say anything, there was nothing I could say to make things easier on him, but I could be there for him. I reached over and looped my arm through his, letting him know I was there. We stayed that way till the sun came up. “Hey,” I said gently “Want to come inside and have some breakfast with me before the day gets noisy?”

Tony glanced at me with dark ringed and red eyes and nodded. “Come on then.” I said as I stood and softly tugged his arm to encourage him to get up. He stood stiffly and followed me inside the tower.

“Jarvis?” I called; “if it’s safe can you return power to the kitchen so that I can make breakfast for anyone who is still here?”

“There is no danger form re-connecting the kitchen to the arc-reactor, you will be free to use the kitchen in a few moments.”

“Thank you Jarvis, now, can you tell me how many I should expect to emerge from the wood work for a meal when they smell it?”

 

{:oOo:}


	17. The Avengers make friends.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helen works out were everyone fits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone this is Feather again, once again you get the view of things from Helen's side of it all, try to remember that Helen is not a working figure in the Team so she has little or nothing to do with clean up after the Manhattan Fiasco.

“NO, Tony, it’s not happening, I am not moving into the mansion! That is final, look I love you like a brother, but really, you are being ridicules here; no I am not being obtuse; Tony, stop it. No, sulking is not going to help you get your way; I am immune to your sulking. I am at a wedding Tony, of course there are strange people’s voices in the background, no, I am not being held hostage, what do you mean that you are looking at me through a live satellite feed to be sure that I’m okay; really, okay then, what dress am I wearing? *groan* you are such a freak sometimes, you know that don’t you, it’s just as well I know what you’re like, so as not to be creeped out by that. I really have to go now Tony. Sophie, who’s wedding this is, is getting miffed at me for being on the phone and ignoring her, good bye Tony, don’t wreck the house.”

I hung the phone up and gave Sophie an apologetic smile “Sorry, that was my boss/friend; he wants me to be his house mate and is very persistent about it.”

Sophie, who I had become close friends with after the Manhattan Fiasco, just smiled and shook her head in understanding. “You know when you told me that you worked for Tony Stark as his Housekeeper I thought you were kidding the first time, only to find out that you were in no way kidding at all when you brought him to my engagement party as your spare, I have to say, you made quite a stir.”

I grinned and shrugged dismissively. “I didn’t mean to make a fuss of things, it’s just that Tony wanted to wish you well in person, so I said that he could come with me, I honestly forget that he’s famous and people make such a big deal of him when they don’t really know him, I mean that man is a big deal, no question about that, but it’s hard to be in awe of someone when your hanging out their undies on a daily basis.”

Sophie gave a peel of laughter, “I can just imagine the headlines, World discovers first person not in awe of Tony Stark, Housekeeper hanging underpants of genius.”  
I sighed and shook my head, “I really truly hope that I never come to the attention of the media thank you very much, especially not for hanging someone’s underwear out to dry!” Sophie just smiled and took my hand to guide me back to the reception party. I followed gladly.

{:oOo:}

 

I pulled my car up out front of my dingy little apartment building and frowned at what was going on in front of it, the tenant parking was taped off as was any access into the grey walled block. Trucks and construction workers milled about in a lazy manner and seemed perfectly at home where they were. I got out and made my way over to the taped off area, a frown firmly in place. When I went to step under the tape a large man with a pot belly took notice of me and made his way over shouting over the ruckus of machinery, that I was not allowed on the construction site. I ignored him and pushed my way around him in an attempt to get to my home.

“Hey,” he snapped at me “you can’t be here you ant got the cert and the boss don’t let no unauthorized persons on site.”   
I rounded on him stopping so suddenly that he almost ran into me.  
“Well I live here buddy, I am pretty sure that I am allowed to get into my own home.”   
The man frowned at me and shook his head, “sorry miss, you must be mistaken, this place was bought just last month by Anderson real-estate, all the tenets finished moving out a few days ago and we came right on in like we were told to.”

I stared at the man in disbelief, “I have been in New-York for the past two weeks at my friend’s wedding, and I sure as hell did not move out of anywhere, I live in apartment 346, I never got any kind on notice, this can’t be legal, who’s in charge? I want to speak with them NOW…”

“Arrr…” said the man intelligently 

I glared viciously at him; my glare was very intimidating; it made people forget that I am only 4 ft. 8 and instead they tended to melt to my will and do as I said, quickly.

The man squirmed in his boots and after a moment told me to stay where I was and that he would go and get the overseer. I waited nervously, apprehensive of what I would find out, had my apartment been totaled, was this really legal; how had this happened? And if it was really happening, what was I supposed to do about it?

A tall man in an olive brown tailored suit swaggered over to where I was standing on the construction side of the tape. I instantly disliked him to the extreme. When he reached me he slid a pair of rainbands off his face with a charming smile. “Larry here tells me that you are one of the buildings former tenets, he also says that you are clamming to not have been given any notice and that you didn’t get to move your stuff.” 

“I believe that is the gist of things, yes, I don’t suppose you could explain what is going on here that this would happen?” I eyed the man coolly ignoring the hand he extended to me to shake, decidedly uncharmed by his bright and utterly false smile.  
“Oh well,” a little less confident that he had been a moment before now he had the full blaze of my glare upon him. 

“Yes, you see there was some trouble with getting notices out to residences, the sail of the property was something of a takeover, and happened rather quickly, the higher up’s wanted things underway as soon as possible, and because by law we only have to give three weeks’ notice to existing tenants before there can be a forced eviction there is really nothing that we are liable for here it’s not our fault that you did not see the notifications on the communal board.”

I stared at the dark outfitted man with incredible horror. What he was saying sounded like utter rubbish, it sounded like someone trying to do damage control, my suspicions were confirmed when the man continued to talk, the slightly nerves smile on his face changing to be one of sly wheedling.

“You can of course contest your treatment in court, but I am obliged to tell you that the company that we work on behalf of has a lot of funds and very good lawyers, I suspect that you would be better of searching through the dumpsters trying to salvage any of your possessions that might have been tossed in there, which will be any that you didn’t take with you to this wedding.”

He was out right smirking now, and I decided that I really wanted to have Thor smack him; well at least I did as soon as I got over the overwhelming and highly distressing fact that my house had been bulldozed and almost all my worldly possessions trashed. 

I stared at the man’s retreating back as he disappeared back to were ever he had appeared from, a confident swagger to his stride, sure that he had beaten me, and I wasn’t sure he hadn’t.  
I was not going to cry…but this was possibly the worst thing to happen to me ever, even in comparison the “Manhattan Fiasco”; at least I had made new friends out of all that, sure they were all a little on the weird side, but they had become my friends none the less. 

The friendships had started with me making them food apparently; and then just pottering about and generally looking after them all in that sort of habitual manner that I have developed with Tony. The Avengers as they got called; had hung around for a few days after the invasion (except for Bruce, he disappeared off to some far off third world country) helping to clean up and rescue trapped people and just help were ever possible, and I helped them, in the best way I could, which was to act a bit like a Stedford wife, without the creepy robot part. 

Steve had been the first one to start talking to me, and not just stare at me suspiciously. He had come into the kitchen on the second day while I was chopping tomatoes for lunches. He had sort of shuffled in and stood in the kitchen trying to look unobtrusive, which was silly because the man in a walking mountain of wonderful eye candy.

After a moment he had shyly asked if “there was anything that he could do to assist me in my preparations?” He was so wonderfully sweet that I had decided at once I liked him, and he was indeed allowed into my kitchen to help me, which Tony is not because he turned all food he attempts to produce to poison, or unrecognizable new forms of life.

Steve turned out to be rather handy in the kitchen and became my default helper at meal times. He was terribly shy at first, and kept calling me Mam’; I would just smile and gently ask him to call me by my name; “Helen, my name is Helen, it’s okay for you to call me that, the others do, and I call you Steve, it’s only fair that you call me by my given name.”

The first few time he did call me Helen, he blushed and ducked his head like a school boy, casting me a shy glance out the corner of his eye. I had learnt from Tony that Steve was a man out of his time element; he had been born back in the forties and was THE ORIGINAL Captain America.   
Tony thought his manners were quaint but out dated, I thought Steve was wonderful just the way he was, and when Tony kept teasing I told him to shut-up, because he could do with a few pointers from Steve’s book of manners. 

The other Avengers had regarded me with expressions of awe when Tony actually had shut up. 

Steve was a big man, not just in weight and height, but in character, I came to like listening to his deep steady voice as we worked together in the kitchen. I liked to hear about what he did as a boy, how he had made friends with Bucky, and slowly how he was coping with a changed world while he was still the same at heart.   
Steve liked to come shopping with me; he liked to carry my bags and open the car door for me, I liked to tell him about herbs, and how they worked to make good food way better, I liked to tell him about growing up in rural Australia with the Gum trees swinging overhead and the soft rustle of hey grass drying in the sun.

It was on one of these trips that I discovered we both loved music, and both played the piano. We were stopped at a small café that had not been damaged in the invasion and had a coffee together; we talked about our favourite composers, about whether Shubert was better than charcofskie. Before my eyes, shy softly spoken Steve, became animated and passionate, he laughed and teased and made raspberry noised and disbelief and dismissal playfully instead of politely disagreeing. 

Steve was wonderful; he was playful and funny with a quick sense of humor and sharp wit. It was very easy to be his friend and I had the strongest feeling that now that I had made friends with him, and not just polite acquaintance, I would have his friendship for life, through thick and thin, that was the sort of man Steve was; he and Tony were alike that way, not that I’d ever tell them that, the way they fought all the time.

 

Thor had been difficult for me to like after he blew the microwave up. I still don’t know what he did to it, and I don’t really want to know, but he did, and did a thorough job of it too! There were pieces of it strewn across the kitchen, and embedded in the plaster.

I had stumbled in at some un-godly hour of the night (3:45am) to investigate an explosion only to find Thor huddled behind one of the hardwood doors that he had ripped off one of the cabinets to use as a shield. I had taken one look around the newly assaulted kitchen and set to scolding the blonde giant with such venom that Steve had to carry me out over his shoulder from the kitchen so that Tony could try and convince Thor that I was not going to beat him unconscious with the cabinet door, and them bake him into a giant Thor sized pie, and feed him to starving piranhas. 

Which given half the chance I would have!

Steve thought the whole thing was rather funny, and couldn’t stop giggling with Clint about it while the two of them sat on either side of me on the couch, to make sure that I didn’t go and find Thor to come good and my ranting’s. 

Thor made spectacular amends the next day when he gave me an Asgardian lightning crystal hung artfully from a white and rose gold vine like chain, and a very hard to understand apology that went something like;

“Lady Helen, I am of a certainty that my standing in your presents is unwelcome, but you must please allow me to attempt to make amends for the destruction of your convenient box of fire, it has now been explained to me that to enter the place called Kitchen, is forbidden without your expressed permission, the like of which Capitan Rogers holds, and Tony Stark does not.”

“I must then humbly beg your forgiveness for this most grave affront to the kindness that you have shown in your endless care, hospitality, and fine food of plenty. Captain Rogers has explained to me that not unalike my home, if one wishes to appease a Lady that had been wronged, it is best to present a gift of usefulness and beauty, I ask, Lady Helen that you accept this Lightning crystal as a gesture of apology, and a vow that I shall never again enter you kitchen without your permission and guidance, as well that I shall never, ever, look with my hands and not my eyes.”

 

He kneeled down before me with head bowed and held the crystal out to me, peeking out at me cautiously with hesitant blue eyes. The other Avengers has slipped into the room quietly while Thor spoke, and now watched with ungraded interest, to see if I would accept the long winded, but sincere apology form the bashful man.

I sighed and took the necklace form his hand and slipped it over my head; Thor looked up and beamed me a dazzling smile as I settled it over my breast. 

“All right Thor, you’re out of the bad books, provided that you stick to what you just promised me, we are all good, you and I.”

Thor leapt to his feet and proceeded to seize me in a near bone crushing hug, that would have been terrifying, if not for the warmth and affection in the action. I made a pathetic meep of alarm into the man’s chest, and was quite grateful to Tony when he stepped in and said “Okay, Thor, I think she gets that you’re REALLY glad she forgave you, now if you wouldn’t mind not breaking her for the rest of us, please.”

Thor put me down with a pleased but sheepish smile. “My gratitude Lady Helen, I would never seek to affront a Lady in her own hall.” I just smiled and patted Thor’s great muscly arm pleasantly.  
Off to the side now, Tony frowned in confusion. “What do you mean her hall? It’s my “hall” it’s called Stark tower, as in, mine Thor.” 

Thor arched his eyebrow and regarded Tony form his slightly taller height. “Your name may be on the building, and you may be in possession of the land it stands upon, but the hall is Lady Helen’s, you but dwell with in her care.”

I grinned at Thor, deciding that for that little comment, I could like him again, and that he was definitely getting forth helpings of desert, and so would Steve, who was snickering and nodding vigorously in the background.

Tony gave a dignified sniff and folded his arms across his chest, obscuring the glow from the arc reactor. “IF I didn’t believe the same thing for even a minuet, I am sure that I would have come up with something witty and pithy to say in retaliation, but as it is, I admit, my large Norse friend, you are probably quite right.”

I raised brows at him and quirked an amused smile. “Only probably Tony?” I quipped.

Tony grinned cheekily and shrugged, while Thor loosed a great booming laugh.

 

Clint had been a weird one…to put it mildly.

 

It had started with him just…being “there” I would go into the lounge, and there he would be, conveniently, more often than not Natasha too, not that I ever got a word out of her. Clint, however, would interrogate me, vigorously. Anywhere I went, he would be there too.

There was no escaping him! 

I would go out into the city to avoid him, and the man scaled down the side of a building to drop into the chair opposite me at a café, and picked up right where he left off. It got to be over the two weeks that he stayed at the tower, that I was surprised when he did not appear out of nowhere. 

I had been contemplating that same thought line at the dining table one morning, when Clint did his usual routine of “wait-till-Helen-blinks-or-looks-away-and-then-suddenly-be-sittin- across-from-her-with-a-cup-of-coffe- looking-like-you’ve-been-there-all-along-and-she’s-just-really-unobservant.”

Which I wasn’t, thank you very much Clint, it hadn’t worked all the other times, and it wasn’t about to work now. “Hello Clint.” I said dead pan and unperturbed by his startling presents. For a moment he just stared at me with his piercing gaze. 

“Did you wash my pants?” I glanced back up from the newspaper at him to answer his question. “Yes, I did a load for everyone yesterday; your clothes should be on your bed, why, can’t you find them?”  
Clint stared at me a moment longer “No, but thanks for that, I was worried I would have to walk around without them all day.” I was about to ask him what he meant, when he stood from the table abruptly and sauntered away to fetch his pants. My eyes widened and I made a small noise of either appreciation or alarm, I wasn’t sure.

Apparently, Clint, one of the world’s most notorious assassins, likes to where brightly coloured boxer briefs. (I vaguely remembered washing those looking back.)

I never said anything to the others about Clint losing his pants, and weirdly, after that Clint stopped the interrogations in favour of seeming to just enjoy my company. He liked to leave me little presents where he knew I’d find them, like a new book, or a soft brightly coloured scarf, just little things that would make me smile, and look about for where he might be hiding and watching, because I was sure that he was.  
As to his stunning and rather constant companion Natasha, I may have been quietly terrified of her; the woman could have stared a gorgon into melted puddle of fear and angst. She never said a word to me, she just…watched, constantly. 

It was unnerving…NO Really.

 

All of that hassle had been worth it. I had been pulled into an odd but tightly knit circle of friends that was fiercely loyal to each other and those they protected, and I was part of that group.

Suddenly it occurred to me, as I stood alone just outside the construction site; that I didn’t have to deal with this all on my own. I had friends. I mean for goodness sake, one of them was a billionaire use to dealing with this sort of back handed rubbish every day, one of them was a god of legend and another was a super soldier from the world war, plus the others…well, they killed people for a living. Nobody was going to argue with them, any of them!

I rummaged in my handbag until I found the phone that Tony had given me after the Manhattan Fiasco, so that I could contact him at any time, he had also programed in everyone else’s number so that I could call them too, including Natasha’s. (When I asked him why, he said that she had told him to, and be dammed if he was going to argue with her on it, if I didn’t want it in there I could talk to her about it myself, so the number had stayed…) 

I scrolled through the contacts list until I found who I was looking for. I needed the help of someone steady and level headed, defiantly not Tony…someone who wouldn’t mind helping me dig through garbage to find photo albums with pictures of my family, someone who was smart enough to be able to deal with the suited men. The choice was obvious; I rang Steve.

The phone rang once, twice, three times before he picked up. “Hello, Hello? Can you hear me? I can’t tell if I have this thing the right way up! Hello?”

“Steve,” I said in a horribly choked voice, because let’s face it, I was totally crying…with great, heaving, sniffily sobs like a slightly oversized four year old. “Someone bulldozed my house and threw all my stuff in the trash, and no one will explain what exactly is going on, and I don’t know what to do *sniffle* I went away for a wedding and they smooshed my home. MY HOME Steve! *hiccup, sniffle, sob* they said they threw all my stuff away, and that I should go and rummage for it, but I can’t do it by myself, because I can’t reach the top of the skip bins to climb in.” i finished in wale and a *sniffle, bubble, sob*

“Wait what! Helen Slow down, what do you mean they smooshed your home!” In the background I could hear raised voices.

Clint: What’s wrong, is Helen in trouble? Where is she? Who is hassling her?

Thor: If Lady Helen is indeed being accosted, I shall go to her aide immediately and smite those who do distress her!

Tony: Steve what’s happened? Ask her where she is, forget that actually, Jarvis where is Helen?

Natasha: Do we need to deal with people, subtlety?

Fury: What the hell are you all talking about? This is supposed to be a meeting.

 

Steve started talking over the top of them all “All of you be quiet so I can hear her, NOW.”

Silence fell. “Okay” said Steve in a soothing tone, “Tell me what happened Helen, I’m on my way to your location now, the others will stay here for now, unless we need them later, I’ll be there in a few minutes, it will be okay.”

It didn’t take me long to tell him what had happened. “Right,” he said in a forced calm voice, he was mad, but not at me, I could tell because he used that voice when trying to deal with Tony at his most obnoxious. “I’ll be at your position in a few moments, see you soon.” He hung up after a few moments of confused grumbles as he tried to remember how to end a call.

True to his impeccable word, Steve landed the quinjet on the road a few moments later, to the bewilderment of the construction workers. He bounded out of it before the door had finished opening, looking around quickly until he spotted me, standing rather pathetically by my beat-up old car. He dashed over to me quickly, which is really quickly, because he is a super soldier after all. 

After a brief but though looking over to see that I was not mortally wounded, (he does that every time he hasn’t seen me for more than eight hours.) Steve pulled me into a gentle and warm embrace, letting me sob out the worst of my distress and anxiety into his soft blue check flannel shirt, as he patted hair and soothed me with comforting phrases like, “Don’t worry, Tony is going to sue the chump that thought it was okay to throw your stuff away.” And “Oh Helen, when I get to talk to that overdressed stiff that was rude to you, I am going to give him a piece of my mind, and maybe my fist, nobody talks to a lady that way.” And my favourite, “I will help you look for your things, don’t worry, I would never let you go and rummage in the trash, what kind of man would I be if I did that.”

After I had gotten over the worst of the shock and settled down, I trailed after my gallant rescuer as he strode through the construction site unopposed. 

(There is something about being six ft seven and built like a brick bomb shelter that makes people think that getting in your way, is not a good idea.)

The man in the olive suit was standing with the potbellied man I recalled being named Larry, looking over layouts and blue prints, as well as other paperwork pieces. He didn’t notice Steve until he was practically upon him. When he did notice Steve, his eyes widened and his jaw fell open, a choked sound escaped his throat, when he saw me trailing behind the disturbingly large and attractive man.  
Oh good, then he would be able to figure out what this was all about rather quickly. 

“You! Are you the one in charge here?” Said Steve in his best commanding Captain voice, which was, it must be recorded, amazingly commanding. The man visibly shook himself and straitened as if attempting to rise to the challenge that was Steve. (Good luck with that.) 

“Yes, but I have already explained to you girlfriend what her options are, and I really don’t have time to deal with this,” here he made a week handed gesture at me “again, so if you’ll excuses me…”  
He made to turn back to his papers but Steve’s firm voice cut his action off. “Well Mister, you’re going to make time for this, because if you don’t things will turn out a lot worse than they already are going to for you and your company.”

The man turned back with a sneer on his face, and folded his arms across his chest. “Listen, tough guy, here’s the thing, your little lady friend here, didn’t pay attention to her eviction notice, and got herself, and her stuff tossed out, that’s not our problem, wanna be a hero, go dig her crap out of the trash, there ain’t anything else you can do.”

Steve stared death at the suit man, (I think he picked that up from Natasha.) He reach into his pocket and took out hiscomunicator, he held it in front of his face and spoke directly at it. 

“Jarvis, can you inquire with Mr Stark to see if he has finished making the arrangements with Miss Potts to block Anderson real-estate building and demolition permits?”

“Just a moment, if you wouldn’t mind Capitan Rogers.” Said Jarvis’s clear accented voice, a moment latter Tony’s voice, as well as a holographic image, floated crisply form the Stark brand communicator. 

“Steve, hey, listen I was right, Anderson real-estate doesn’t have full go for the permits, they have contacts on the city council, and were so sure that they would get the go-ahead, that they jumped the gun; good for us, not for them. Pepper is in with my Lawyers now, who will obviously be representing Helen. To put it eloquently, for Anderson, the $&!% has hit the fan.”

I felt an overwhelming sense of glee at the distressed and nauseated look on suit man’s face as he realised that he was dealing with a whole other kettle of fish from his first impression. Steve smiled coldly, “Thanks Tony, Helen I am sure, is relieved to hear that, she looks it anyway.” Tony’s image nodded his head sagely at Steve’s words.

“Good, great, would you put her on for a sec Capsical, I want to tell her something.” Steve handed the communicator over to me, and watched with curiosity, probably wondering what it was that Tony wanted to tell me. “Hey Helen, Look don’t worry about a thing, you are going to stay at the mansion, Pepper says so too, Steve will dig out you precious bits and bobs, Clint and Thor too, they’re on their way over, Don’t give me that look, Jarvis called them not me, anyway, they’ll help you get your stuff and put it in the quinjet, and I will legal jargon the life out of a few very over important people, till they cry like distraught children, not that I have ever made children distraught, but you follow me.”

I frowned at Tony’s miniaturized but obviously sincere figure, “Tony, I am not going to live at the mansion.” Tony shook his head in dismissal. “Where else will you stay, the mansion is the safest place for you, and you already spend half your life here anyway, you might as well stay there, I would like to add that Pepper agrees with me, and she is never wrong.”

“Tony…” I said with a sigh. He held his hands forestalling whatever I was going to say. “Look, Helen, I know that you’re worried that I will forever be in your face if you move in, but I here and now, solemnly swear, that your room will be your room, your own space, and that I will not go into it, ever, unless you are at risk of dying, or you invite me, no innuendo implied.”

I mulled the promise over for a moment. Tony had used the, “I am actually serious here.” voice; the one that meant that he fully intended to come through with what he had said. I knew him well enough to know the difference, even though a hologram. 

“All right Tony, you win, I’ll live at the mansion, provided you come through with what you just said, and thanks, by the way, for looking out for me, and being a vengeful git on my behalf, I appreciate it. Tell Pepper thanks too, I bet there was a lot of paper work to go through fast to find out about the permits as hasty as she did.” 

I couldn’t quite make out the finer detail of Tony’s face, but I was sure that when he next spoke, he was wearing the affectionate half-smile, that he only ever gave to those close to him.

“Look, Helen, I know you have this thing going, where you think you have to not ask for help, because everyone else has too many problems or whatever, but, the thing is, it makes us feel better to know that you will rely on your friend to look after you when you can’t, or don’t know how to do it yourself.” 

I had to blink back fresh waves of tears at his words, and I felt Steve’s Large calloused hand come to rest on my shoulder comfortingly. “Okay.” I said thickly, my voice gone husky from the effort not to burst into tears at how suddenly exposed I felt.

All this time I had been getting to know these amazing people, making friends with them, and totally not realising, that, they were getting to know me too. I ended the transition with Tony and handed Steve back the communicator, nodding mutely when he asked if I was Okay, not trusting myself to speak.

 

Thor and Clint turned up soon afterward to help with the trash rummage, just as Tony had said they would, Natasha in tow. I stood off to the side listening to the three intimidating men as they developed a plan of attack, (I am not sure why they thought the garbage was going to attack them, but if that floats their boat, go for it.) and dividing the skip bins among each other in a grid formation so as to be thorough or something.

I didn’t notice Natasha behind me, until she wrapped her arms around my shoulders in a briefly terrifying (because the woman is an assassin, and you never want one of those behind you unexpectedly.) but turned out to be affectionate and protective hug.

She didn’t say anything, which was a little unnerving at first, but after a moment I discovered that I really just found the contact to be soothing, as if some of Natasha’s quiet calm nature was a port in a tossing storm. I lent back into the contact with a sigh. Natasha hummed encouragingly at me, and started to stroke my hair softly in relaxing strokes. 

Between the three of them, my stuff was rather quickly rescued form the rubbish pile, I was wonderfully relieved to discover that they had even managed to recover my grandmother’s sterling silver jewellery chest, and my family photo albums among the objects found. Unfortunately most my wardrobe articles had been ruined, leaving me with nothing but what I had in my car. Jarvis nearly sacred the Bejeebus out of me when he announced form my phone in my pocket, that he was making arranges for a new wardrobe to be delivered to my new room at the mansion as soon as possible.

I didn’t even bother arguing with him, I had already been down that road, and I had learnt my lesson, if Jarvis wants to buy me things, he is going to do it, even if it tell him not to. End of discussion.   
In short order my stuff (what had been recovered) was loaded into the quinjet, and we all flew over to the mansion. Thor Steve and Clint quickly ferried my things into the room that Jarvis directed them towards, while I watched the activity, more than a little shell shocked by the events of the day. 

Natasha stood silently by my side the whole time. As soon as they were done, I went over to them and thanked them, (I probably looked as shocked and out of it as I felt, because they were all very careful when they hugged me goodbye.) and then stumbled into my new room (which was the size of my old apartment and then some.) crawled into my bed, and curled into a tight little ball of delayed stress and fatigue.   
I didn’t notice Natasha until she sat on the bed beside me, and started rubbing my back. I peeked up at her from under plush convers. “I thought that I had locked the door.” I said a little confused, adding to my already warn out emotional state.

“You did.” 

It was the first time that I had ever heard her say anything, my eyes widened in shock, not that she had gotten through a locked door, because hello, super spy/assassin, if doors were a problem, she wouldn’t be very good at her job, but that she had actually said something, she usually just ignored me, and anything I said to her.

She had an amazing voice, it was velvety and smoky all at once, it was a voice made for seduction. I blinked at her in wonder and before I could engage the brain filter, I said the very thing that I had been thinking. Rather than getting offended at me like I feared she would, she made a pleased sound, a smile flashed across her face so briefly, that I almost wondered if I had really seen it, but it occurred to me, that my imagination was not good enough to come up with the way that fleeting curl of full lips softened and made the dangerous woman look sweet and young all at once. 

I wriggled until I was sitting up in the bed. “How come you came with the others, how come you’re here in my room, it can’t just be because Clint came, because then you’d be out there with him, not in here with me?” I asked abruptly.

Natasha cocked her head to the side in a birdlike gesture. “I like to make sure that my friends are Okay when they ring telling us that their house has been smooshed.”

I smiled hesitantly at her. “We’re friends?” I asked cautiously. Natasha just gave me another of those beautiful, but fleeting smiles.  
“Yeah, we’re friends. You’re nice, I like you.” For a moment we just looked at each other quietly, before I broke the moment by asking, “Do you want to watch a horrendously girly movie on that ridiculously oversized Tv on my wall over there with me?”

Natasha kicked off her shoes and scrambled elegantly into the bed with me. “I want to watch something with lots of pretty dresses in It.” she said contentedly.  
Vaguely as I was flicking through Jarvis’s movie banks, I thought that maybe this whole horribly day wasn’t so bad in the grand scheme of things, it might freak me out a little that these people who are my friends seem to care about me, to the point being happy to kill people for me, but, maybe that wasn’t so bad. I smile to myself as the opening seen of BBC’s “sense and sensibility started to play.” This was going to be fun.

 

{:oOo:}

 

The passion that I had held out against moving into the mansion had abruptly changed directions once I had; into a decided happiness at being there. I liked the company, I liked being able to call a place home that actually felt like one. It was more than just a place that I slept at night. It was the place I was with my friends, those people who became my family. 

Time passed in a blur of activity, of comings and goings, of joy and of sadness (about a year of it actually). Not just for me, but the Avenger team, my closest companions. Since the Manhattan Fiasco the unlikely assortment of personalities and abilities had banded together into a weird but fearsome force to be reckoned with. I of course had front row seats to the whole development.   
(Apparently Bruce had returned from where ever he had disappeared off to re-join the Avengers, but I had yet to see him because he stayed with SHIELD.)

Just as well SHIELD gave me high ranking clearance, because I wound up hearing about EVERYTHING that went on in their departments that had anything to do with the Avengers, (which was pretty much everything.) Even Natasha was not beyond telling me international secrets. Thor was worse than Tony, he didn’t even realise that he wasn’t supposed to tell people about what he did on here on earth, because here is a kicker, Thor was some sort of alien god…and that explains all the weirdness. 

I hated to admit it but Tony had been right, it was good to be in a safe place, where I didn’t have to worry about my next door neighbors breaking into my house while I did the grocery shopping.   
(my old place was sort of in a…who am I kidding it WAS in the worst part of town, now you know why gunshots don’t freak me out as much as they probably should.)

I liked the security of knowing that Jarvis was always about to look after me, (because he is a sweetheart like that.) It was also nice how often the avengers came down to visit me at the mansion, (everyone except Tony stays on the helli-carrier base), I had on more than one occasion come out, late at night, to find one or more of them stumbling in post mission in search of, as Clint called it, “Edible food, not that #@!$ they serve in the mess hall, and some steady sense form Helen.” 

But this only really happened when the missions where bad ones, when I think they needed some sort of constant peace to the equation that was the life of a superhero. One of these nights happened after a night of bombings in New York. Usually it’s only one or two of them that turn up, but tonight it was the lot of them. I had expected them; Jarvis had given me a heads up, and kept me informed on what was happening throughout the battle. I don’t care if they are superheros, they are my friends and I worried about them. 

I had made a load of hot chocolate, a tone of cinnamon biscuits and a heaped tower of first aide bitts. I passed nervously back and forth beside the dining table where everything was set out waiting for their arrival. Tony was the first to arrive, coming up from his workshop newly relieved of his armour. He smiled wanly at me, and plonked himself down at one of the dining chairs. I grabbed a mug of chocolate and some first aid bits and came over to him. 

“How’d it go?” I asked gently as I started to wipe off some of the bomb soot and clean out abrasions on his arms and face, as he sipped his drink around my workings. Tony heaved a great sigh and set his mug down. “Not great…people died, we did our best, but, sometimes it’s not enough. Whoever did this, planed for us, not so well that we didn’t get to disarm two of the bombs before they went off, and rescue their target, but…damn it Helen, I just, we…the others are a bit of a mess over this I think.” He finished weekly, flinching as I swiped detoll over a cut. 

I took his face in my hands and made him look me in the eye. “How many fingers am I holding up.” I asked firmly. Tony rolled his eyes. “Three, I’m fine Helen, would you stop fussing.” I folded my arms across my chest and frowned at him darkly. Tony was saved from whatever I was going to say to him by the others entering in off the balcony. They too, looked worn out and battered.

They all made vague noised of gratitude as I ushered them into chairs around the table and dealt out mugs, biscuits and first aid. I flitted between them fussing and fixing as best I could. When I was sure that none of them were about to drop dead, I sat myself at the end of the table and held my arm in the air like I was in a classroom, until I had everyone’s attention (except Thor’s, but a jab in the side form Tony set him on track.) 

I looked gravely at all of them, “You need to get a Doctor on your team.” I said firmly. There was a moment of discorded jabber as everyone all at once began discussing what I had said, most of them seemed to set against the idea. 

“Quiet!” Said Steve commandingly over the top of them all; they gradually quieted setting their attention on him. “Helen is right, I’ve been thinking for a while that we could do with a good field medic on the team, we can’t go on the way we have without one. What if one of us gets hurt, and really needs someone who knows what they are about? Now, before you all get you pants in a twist, I know that our track record with doctors isn’t great, but I think that’s just because we haven’t found the right person for the job, so if you’re all willing to give it a go, I’ll talk to Fury about it tomorrow after the briefing.”

The seated occupants of the table all murmured their assent to the plan. I nodded, pleased that Steve had taken my side. They really did have a bad track record with doctors, what with them having a habit of getting themselves killed or maimed in a mired of rather interesting ways.

Their first doctor was named Jean Prinn, he lasted a grand total of five minutes; he was a SHIELD agent, and had made a stunningly bad impression. First off, being stupid enough to grab Natasha’ bum, at which point his head had smashed into a work bench, and he may have been in a coma for a minimum of three months after.   
But there was no proof.

The second Doctor was named Josie Temple, she lasted a week. She may have been a good doctor, but we could never tell, because any time one of the devastatingly attractive men that made up the team, walked into the room, she would freeze up in unrequited, flustered, crushing, fan-girl-ness. Needless to say, she was not very helpful in a crisis (especially if that crisis required to remove their shirts).

The third Doctor wanted the Avengers (and by default me,) to call him Dazzle…yes, you heard me…Dazzle. He was very quickly reassigned to another team when the Avengers wouldn’t stop laughing at him every time they saw him. He lasted three days.

The fourth and fifth Doctors occurred in the space of the same day. SHIELD had thought, that if they shared the responsibility of caring for the Avengers out to more than one individual, it might make it easier for the Doctors to manage.

The two Doctors were named Danielle Stone and Hubert Lank. Both of them, managed to get themselves blown up in a lab experiment; trying to illegally duplicate the Super soldier serum from Steve’s blood samples. Nobody really mourned that loss to the team.

Doctor number six, James Harrow, was a little more interesting. He’d been working with the Avengers for about four months, and seemed to be quite promising; they’d even brought him down to the mansion to meet me. He had seemed nice enough, if a decided flirt. Nobody would tell me exactly what happened to him after, but from what I could get out of them, he had been working with Bruce in the labs, when he had said and did a few things that…had upset Bruce enough, (or the other guy, Hulk, I’m not sure which.) to result in a loss of control and a James Harrow smear on the lab wall…not very nice.

So suffice to say, there had been no doctors since then.

It was Steve who came to tell me that the Avengers had decided at the debriefing to give a new Doctor a shot a few days later. He came into the lounge room where I was playing the piano, after Jarvis let him in, and stood by listening for a while, his hands in pockets.

“So, we decided to take your demand on board, we’re going to give a new doctor a shot, but we decided that we should try someone outside of SHIELD, because, well, our experiences of the ones they have picked, have not been great, and Bruce has the condition that they have to be a woman, don’t ask me why Helen, he swore me to silence, and I never break my word.”

I sighed in a combination of frustrated curiosity and relief. (I really wanted to know why Bruce said they had to be a woman, but I was glad the team had decided to reopen the position.)

I got up from the piano and gestured for Steve to follow me into the kitchen as I made some coffee for us both, and rummaged to see if Tony had devoured the last of the Cinnamon snaps I'd made the other day.

Steve was quiet while I pottered about, a thoughtful expression to his face. He spoke hesitantly after a moment. “Helen, do you, I mean, have you ever, sort of…fancied anyone? What I mean to ask, is, if someone wanted to court you, how would you want them to go about it?”

I blinked in surprise at the large man. Of all the things I had expected to come out of Steve’s mouth, the request for relationship advice was not one of them. “Well,” I said cautiously, but with a soft smile, “How would you think I would like a man to court me?” 

Steve ran a hand through his hair in a rather flustered gesture; a soft pink blush was steadily creeping up his cheeks and neck. He fidgeted and shuffled for a moment before answering. “I think maybe you would like the chap to know your name first off.” He muttered bashfully at his shoes.

I raised brows at him. “So,” I said kindly “you don’t know her name then?”   
Steve shook his head, blushing all the harder. I hummed thoughtfully. “How did you meet this mystery lady?”   
Steve peeked at me shyly, “I, uh, sort of saved her, from the bombs a week ago…it was a bit crazy at the time, I didn’t think to ask her name, but, Helen you should have seen her!” He looked up and gave a soft sigh. “She, she was so calm, and, and her eyes! You should have seen her eyes Helen, she didn’t scream and panic like all the others, she just watched me, and I just, I mean…I probably sound like an idiot don’t I…?”

He trailed off, his blush gone full scarlet. “Hmm,” I hummed quietly as I handed him his industrial strength coffee just the way he likes it. “A little bit like an idiot yes, but that’s the way these things work I’ve been told, it’s all right to sound like a bit of an idiot, just don’t act like one. If you like this girl so much, find out who she is, you have the resources, you just need to do it.” 

He rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously and threw me a shy smile. “I guess so, would that be…allowed though?”   
I made a raspberry noise and shrugged, “Does it matter? Everyone has Facebook these days, just get it to a data search or something, maybe ask Clint for help, he can keep his mouth shut, Tony would probably be able to do it quick as a flash, but you will never live it down, so I don’t recommend telling him, Don’t worry, I won’t tell him either.”

Steve looked thoughtful now, considering what I had said. “That might work.” He said cautiously.   
I smiled at him and patted his hand across the table we were seated at. “Sure it will, now tell me what you remember about her; I want to know what sort of woman has you so tangled up that you are blushing like a school boy.”

He smile happily and launched into a lengthy description, that I dutifully payed avid attention to. I had no doubt that Steve would find this woman; he was a determined sort of person, but at the same time, I was unsure if any good would come of this, Steve was a strong man, but behind the exterior of very real charisma and bravery, there was a heart of rare depth, beauty, and surprising fragility. If Steve fell in love, he would do it with everything he had in him, there would be no half measures.

Steve played for keeps. 

As it turned out, Steve did not get a chance to find her, she found him. Nick Fury had hired her to be the new doctor for the team, and honestly looking back I wondered why nobody else had been the least suspicious over that coincidence. 

I was in the garden the next time Steve came to see me; he bounded down the path, and skidded to a stop beside me as I crouched among the ruckus of bright flowers. His expression alternated between joy, and something that looked a great deal like nauseated nerves. “Steve!” I said in surprise, “Are you alright? You look…odd, are you well?”

Steve gave a little embarrassed huff. “So, you remember me telling you about that girl I fancied a while back?”  
I nodded in confirmation and gestured for him to go on. “Well” he said with a pleased little smile; “She’s our new team doctor! I met her again today, officially.” I smiled back at him, pleased that he was pleased. 

“What’s she like?” I asked as I wiped my dirty hands off on a rag. Steve smiled bashfully, “Nice,” he said softly, “She is really, Really nice, she stitched Clint up, all tidy like.” 

And that there, ladies and gentleman, was how you impressed an Avenger…with human sewing skills. That was what my life was coming to.

While Steve was blushing and fidgeting Natasha made one of her sudden appearances to be at my left. “Gwaahaa!” I cried as I leapt towards Steve’s form in alarm. When I registered who it was, I plonked my hands on my hips in my 'cranky stance' as Tony referred to it. “Natasha,” I snapped “what have I said about sneaking up behind me with your amazing ninja skills?”

The assassin was unperturbed by my grumping. In fact she was rather pleased by it. She gave a fleeting, sweet, smile and a little husky giggle, and leaned down to peck a kiss on my cheek. I gave a conceding huff, and lifted my hands from my hips to brush my hair out of my face, and give her a 'now no longer grumpy smile' of my own. 

“The ship is ready to go, Stark has his stuff in it.” Natasha said to Steve, angling her head in a gesture back towards the mansion. “Where are you off to now?” I asked with interest.   
“Russia.” Said Steve, “We have some new leads on the bombings, and we want to follow them as soon as possible, Clint and Bruce are back at the base, Natasha Tony and I will follow our direction up, we’ll let you know how it went when we can.”

I nodded and followed them back inside the mansion, listening as they hurriedly told me about the new developments on the case that Bruce had stumbled over, and why it was they were headed to Russia, as well as all the gossip from within SHIELD.

“When will you be back?” I asked cautiously. Steve being the clever chap he was, managed to read between what I said and what I meant, to understand the over all hidden concern. He reached over and gave me a warm and firm side hug. “In a couple of months, you needn’t worry; we will look out for each other, promise.”


	18. Russians, medical kits and Housekeepers.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi feather again, this is probably the last chapter I will be loading for at least a month or so. once again, this is from Helen's point of view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helen's not a huge fan of impromptu boning time.

I didn’t hear from any of the Avengers for some weeks after; it was no fun, at all. Thor was back on Asgard fulfilling his princely rolls; Clint was busy on the Hellicarrier, with what I had no notion. The others were on a deep cover mission in some freezing part of Russia, and it was only thanks to Jarvis checking in that I knew any of them were alive…even though the AI wasn’t supposed to be telling me anything.   
It was in this time that I learnt a very important fact about myself, I hate being bored, and also, I do heaps of baking when I am. With no one to eat all the stuff I habitually make, I had found an unintentional way to be Tony’s formally disgruntled neighbours, new best-friend. (I had no idea what else to do with all the goodies, and I was not going to eat them all on my own; that would have made me curvy in all the WRONG ways.)

Summer passed into a soft autumn, then into a balmy LA winter and I still had yet to see one of the Avengers in person, (Clint had called a few times, but most of the time conversations with the man consisted of five words or less…on a good day, but I liked that he did call.)   
I was beginning to have the morbid thought that I would grow old and die without ever setting eyes on them again, well not really but it had been a long time and I was really very lonely all on my own, I had other friends, but they weren’t…they weren’t the Avengers, they weren’t MY Avengers. 

 

***

 

I was at the piano avoiding going outside because of the unusual cold snap that had taken LA by surprise for the last two days when Jarvis called for my attention “Agent Barton is at the door with an unknown visitor, shall I let them in Miss West?” I grinned in delight as I gave Jarvis the go ahead, and dashed to the door. “Clint!” I cried joyously as he stepped through the door and stood still long enough to let me give him a warm but brief hug.   
(I was well aware that I was practically a walking miracle because he let me do that, and returned the affection.)

It wasn’t until after I was sure that Clint was in one piece, that I really noticed the other person with him. I had registered her presence, but she wasn’t a threat to the archer or myself, so had momentarily taken a back seat in my interest as I assets the wellbeing of my friend.   
(Living around the Avengers I had gotten pretty good at reading when something, or someone, was going to do me harm.) 

Clint’s guest was a young woman of about my own age; she was pretty, in a clean fresh way. Mischievous, wide, hazel-green eyes fanned by thick, long, dark lashes and framed by expressive brows peered at me with open curiosity from a slightly oval-heart shaped face. A generous smattering of freckles fell across rosy cheeks and a button nose; her mouth was a well-shaped cupid’s bow and curled up at the edges like she was unaccustomed to not smiling, and when she did smile, it cause naturally strait white teeth and faint dimples to appear.

Her hair was long and a rich golden brown and was pulled back into a sensible ponytail except for her fringe that fell to the side of her face with an unruly cowlick. Her build was feminine but sturdy set, with wiry workable muscle. Her posture was calm and confident. Like Clint, she wore a SHIELD uniform, but with one obvious variation. On her top left hand shoulder and at her breast just above her heart she wore the insignia of a field doctor for SHIELD. 

I looked at Clint questionably as I waited for him to introduce the two of us. The man at last realised what the two women on either side of him where waiting for when prompted by a soled poke to the ribs by medic. 

(Oh, he let her do that, I like her!)

“Oh right, Helen, this is our latest member of the team Hannah Jonson, Hannah, this is our Helen.”   
I smile warmly at the young woman.   
“Hello Hannah, it’s lovely to meet you, I was glad to hear that the team had finally found someone determined enough to keep them in one piece,”   
I shook her hand and was pleased to see that her grasp was firm and confident.   
“why don’t you two follow me to the lounge so we can catch up, of course we’ll stop at the kitchen to get some coffee and bickies first Clint, don’t panic.”

I led them through the house and chattered pleasantly about what I had been up to, and how I had used my over enthused baking habit to bribe my way into the good-graces of the mansions neighbors. About how some of the garden plants I had herded Clint into helping me plant last time he was here had died because of the unusual cold, and about how I had been convinced that I was the worst chess player in the history of chess, because I couldn’t win against Tony or Jarvis at the game, but then found out that I was actually amazing when I got board on Friday and actually took my mate up on his request to go and play a few rounds of competitive chess at the city park.

I didn’t have to talk, Clint isn’t the sort of guy that you have to say anything to in order to enjoy his company, but I knew he liked it when I did talk, I think it helped him feel like he was still part of the regular world outside of missions and covert operations. Plus, it gave the new girl a way to gage me. And I, her. I watched her reactions to my stories carefully and filed them away in my mind, trying to work out how and what made this steadily confidant young woman tick.

She hadn’t said much yet, but I could tell she was watching me as closely as I was her. Shortly, I had them both seated on the cosy leather couches in the lounge as I set a piled plate of cinnamon ginger snaps (Clint’s favourite) and honey-peanut biscuits before them, as well as a couple of mugs of hot-chocolate. 

Clint fell on the plate like a man who had eaten nothing but SHIELD cafeteria food in months (which he was.) He gave a drawn out grown of appreciation as he stuffed one of the tangy sweet snaps in his mouth, and rinsed it down with a gulp of the hot chocolate. I hid my grin at his obvious delight behind my own mug. Hannah was not so tactful. 

“Clint, man, you are sooo weird sometimes; you do know that right.” said the medic still holding her as yet uneaten snack in her hand as she regarded the archer, her brow raised.  
Clint snorted unoffended by her remark.   
“You think so do you, eat that cookie and then see how weird you think I am.”   
Hannah eyed the biscuit speculatively; she shrugged and took a tentative bite. She blinked for a moment, swallowed and threw a bright smile at me. “Oh, wow! These are really nice! I see Clint’s praise is well founded, thanks for them by the way.”

I smiled back; I did like it when people appreciated good food. For a little while I carried the conversation as Clint and Hannah munched contentedly on their food, every so often Clint would pipe up with a word or two to comment on whatever story I was telling them. Hannah I discovered, was a cheerful sort of person, good humor rolled off her in waves; happy seemed to be her default setting.   
The two of them had been at the mansion for about an hour when Clint’s com beeped. He glanced at it with a frown.   
“Agent Hill has something she needs me to check out down town, possible weapon smuggling, some stuff left over from the Manhattan Fiasco that the local gangs got to before the clean-up crew did, we gotta go.” 

“Are you allowed to tell her that?” Asked Hannah with interest and a little frown; Clint grinned wickedly between the two of us.   
“Sure, we tell Helen everything, Fury had to give her clearance back when the team was first formed, covered his butt with the council, for when we all blabbed international secrets under the influence of someone who actually cares about us with genuine affection.”

Hannah turned her gaze to me and looked thoughtful for a moment “Is that the only reason she got the clearance? Fury doesn’t strike me as the sort of man to be overly concerned about butt covering, if he were, I highly doubt that the Avengers initiative would exist.”

I frowned thoughtfully, Hannah had just made a good point, one that I had never considered; I would have to think on that later, but for now, I decided that I would like to get to know the clever minded Doctor better.   
“Clint,” I said in a considering tone, “do you need Hannah to come with you? Because if you don’t, why not let her stay with me for a bit, its cold out, and she needn’t freeze along with you if she doesn’t have to.”  
Clint cocked his head to the side in a bird like gesture as he considered my question. 

“Well, I was hoping to have dinner with you this evening, so I wanted to come back here after I clean this up anyway, so it doesn’t look to be a problem, if that’s ok with you, the staying for dinner part?” 

For a moment pure and desperate hope fills Clint’s face as he waited for me to tell him that it was all A-O-kay for him to come back to the mansion and devour, at super speed, 70% of any food I produce for dinner.

I smiled at him and patted his incredibly manly, manly bicep affectionately.   
“Well I was counting on it Clint, I haven’t seen you in a while and I missed you, it’s been very quiet here for too long I think, so go stop the bad guys and Hannah can help me in the kitchen until you get back.”

Clint beamed me a dazzling smile, it was intense, and for a teeny tiny, itty bitty moment, I wanted to fling myself at him and make out like a crazy fan girl.   
Thankfully I do not have a problem with impulse control (unalike a certain someone, named Tony Stark) and was able to resist that super uncomfortable and mildly frightening compulsion. 

Clint didn’t procrastinate once he had the go-ahead to come back. It was bare seconds before the black unmarked BMW that he and Hannah arrived in was disappearing down the drive.   
A half hour latter Hannah and I were standing in the kitchen chopping vegetables and chatting casually about the weather, our favorite coffee shops and where we grew up as kids. Very normal things, and Hannah kept throwing me glances out the corner of her eye that weighed heavily of confusion and maybe a little awe (as to why that was I had no idea.) 

I had decided that I liked Hannah; and I am pretty sure that she was going to survive to become a permanent and important member of the team. She grew up traveling the world with her parents; she was tough and independent, quick witted and clever. It was pretty easy to see why Clint liked her. He’s a good judge of character and I knew that he would never bring someone who would hurt me to the mansion, so that made it easy to just relax and get along with Hannah.

I smiled as I watched, and she told me about how Fury got her involved in the Avengers. She talked with her whole body, expressive and passionate, her gestures comical but controlled, there seemed to be a sort of newness to the way she held herself, she shifted between and easy lean to a perfectly balanced stance, as if a new habit was forming in the way she moved, and she had yet to un-learn the old ones. It was fascinating to watch. 

Her expressions were changeable and open as she told me about how unnerving Nick Fury’s one eye had been on their first meeting; her bright green eyes dancing with mischief.   
It was easy, being around her. I could tell that although she had not been part of the team for a long time, she cared deeply about what happened to them all. It was a small comfort to know that I was now no longer alone in trying to keep the ragtag group of remarkable people in one piece. 

Dinner was almost ready when the sound of engines came though from outside. “That must be Clint back.” I said happily as I made my way over to the front door to great him.   
Hannah’s hand shot out and clasped me by the arm. “That’s not Clint.” She said, eyes fixed on the front door a few meters from us. I raised puzzled brows at her. “Clint and I came in a car, why would he be arriving in a helicopter if he had the car? Also, it was my understanding that your house had an AI that tells you when anyone approaches?” 

My eyes flicked to the door again as I started to back away. Hannah was right, Jarvis always told me when anyone approached the house, but he hadn’t this time, something was wrong. “Jarvis?” I called carefully, there was no response. I moved quickly to one of the interface tablets on the walls, I tapped the screen nothing came up. I tapped the screen twice, this time the screen came to life, but what it displayed sent a shiver down my spine. The image glitched and blinked in and out of life, the flashing, bright, blue word “ERROR” taking up most of the view.   
Jarvis had been hacked.

“We have to go.” I said in a low voice, as I tugged the other woman after me. “there is a safe room below Tony’s work room, if we can get there and get the door open then we should be alright, the room is built straight into the bedrock, worst comes to worst there is a tunnel shaft leading to a warehouse a mile away, I can call Tony from there and get him to find ouARGGGUU!”

I cut off into a scream as the panoramic window on my left shattered spraying glass everywhere. I felt sharp stings, as shards made cuts across my arms where I had thrown them up to protect my face. Behind me I heard Hannah cry out a warning as a sleek canister flew into the ruined room.

The canister exploded with a blinding flash and a rupture of high pitch sound and electricity. Dimly I was aware that someone was screaming, and when the sticky metallic taste of blood registered along with the slamming sense of pain, I realised it was me. I was on the floor screaming. I could feel a hot trickle of something running down my neck, probably blood too; I couldn’t move, spasms wracked my body erratically as if I were being hit with a tazer gun continuously. 

I couldn’t see Hannah, I could hear her though, hear her screaming too, so at least I knew she was alive. Armed men were now pouring in though the broken window propelling from ropes. They spread out shouting at each other in a language I did not recognise, not that I could hear properly. Or see for that matter.

My screams had faded to pained whimpers now that seemed to tear themselves from my throat with no permission form my brain whatsoever. But the pain did not fade, it grew stronger, until black began to creep in on my vision. Colour faded and sounds grew dimmer, until unconsciousness slipped over me, then there was blessed nothing.

 

{:oOo:}

 

I came too slowly, a blinding pain in my head that seemed to time with the throb of my heart. I was on a floor, I was sure of that; it was cold and slightly damp smelling faintly of mud and metal. I blinked a few times to clear the flashing spots of white from my vision, as I tried to sit up.

“Easy, easy, take it slow.” Came a voice from the left of me. Hannah sat on the floor beside me, her back to the wall. She looked a mess, her uniform was covered in specs of blood and small tears, her face was smeared with dried blood and dirt, one of her bright eyes, almost swollen shut by a dark and vicious burse marring her soft features.  
I figured, I probably looked just as bad.

“What happened to your eye?” I asked in a croak. A rueful smile tipped up the right side of the doctor’s mouth.   
“I woke up sooner than I was meant to, and expressed my displeasure to their unexpected invitation.” I blinked at her.   
“That means what exactly?”   
The grin tuned wolfish, and reminded me of Natasha. “It means that I stole a boot knife and used it effectively and got punched for my trouble, but all in all, I think I won that round, black eye for me, emergency surgery for him.”

I gave a bark of laughter, “Yeah, I’d say you win that match.” We smiled at each other a moment before voices outside our tiny dim prison drew our attention. “I can’t understand them, they’re speaking another language, I can’t make it out though the walls.” I said quietly.

“Russian,” said Hannah in a soft strained voice. “I can’t hear much, but from what I can,” She swallowed “things are not in a good way for us.” She nodded towards the door. “There is a man out there named Franco, he sounds like he’s in charge, or at least higher up in the ranks, he’s talking to a man named Rushoff, its muffled but I think they said something about SHIELD getting too close to their trail, and that we are going to be used as leverage to catch the operatives hunting them, and while they are waiting for all of their plans to take place, they can use us for information…” 

She trailed off her face paling. “They are going to torture us as a message to SHIELD, that nobody is safe if they meddle in their busyness.”   
My stomach clenched around the knot of fear that seemed to wedge there. I swallowed hard, tearing my gaze away from the door I looked at Hannah. 

“Did you get trained for this sort of thing?” I asked, my voice was calm and steady, just like it had been nearly a year and half ago during the Manhattan Fiasco.   
“In a manner of speaking.” replied Hannah, her voice just as calm and even but with a rueful tilt to her mouth. I nodded carefully and swallowed again.   
“Tell me what I need to do, you said they were going to use us to send a message, that means they maybe won’t kill us right off, we might have a chance to escape if that’s the case, but I don’t think we will get a chance to, before things get ugly, and I will not betray my friends, so tell me what to do.”

Hannah nodded stiffly, her eyes glassy with tears, but her voice was strong and calm when she spoke. “Okay, the trick is not fighting, think passive aggressive, don’t insult them, let them think they are hurting you more than they really are, don’t resist them, but don’t talk to them either. In training they said its best to roll with the pain, accept it, and try to think around it rather than resisting it.”  
I nodded and listened carefully trying to commit her advice to memory. 

I was terrified, but I was betting that Hannah was too, and I was pretty sure that we needed each other to stay strong, we would get through this, of that I was certain, the question was, would it be in one piece?

 

{:oOo:}

 

“So where did you learn to speak Russian?” I asked quietly as Hannah and I sat huddled against the wall of our cell, trying to ward off the cold. Hannah flashed a quick grin, marred only by her blackened eye.   
“I learnt to speak Russian in Russia, about nine years ago now, my parents were doctors with W.H.O. We travelled all across the world when I was younger, I always loved language, and my mum and I use to make a challenge out of seeing who could get the best at a new one the fastest.”

She looked sad for a moment before she seemed to physically shake of a bad memory and continued talking.  
“We came out to Russia to help with an influenza outbreak that had gotten out of control in one of the more isolated arias, my parents were pretty busy, so I had time to myself, I use to sit and listen to the locals talk, I’ve always had a bit of a knack with languages, so I picked it up pretty quick, once I had figured it out, I use to go to the clinic, and translate for some of the other doctors that didn’t speak Russian. It was good, I could help that way, even though I was too young to do much else, I’ve always wanted to help people, that’s never changed, I don’t think it ever will really.”

She looked around the dimly lit room frowning a little. “Or at least I thought so, but I can tell you now, if anything happened to our captors, I don’t think I would be jumping to helping them any time soon.” She sighed, “Or at least I wouldn’t with a happy bedside manner and a smile.” 

We smiled faintly at each other sharing in the moment of humour. “I don’t know what I would do.” I said honestly. “I like to think that I would do the right thing and help someone when they were hurt, but I don’t know, I’m not perfect, if anything, I think I would help them just so that I had the chance to punch them in the face later.”

Hannah giggled, “Well I never said that I wouldn’t punch them later given the chance, because they are really not making themselves my friends in this whole thing, first with the whole sound blast and abduction, then with the locking up in freezing room, little lone their plans for our dubious future, can’t say that they endear themselves to me.”

I smiled weakly, “No, they are really not my most favorite people right now. At all.” Hannah nodded and we both descended into a grim silence.   
“What about you?” asked the young doctor “what’s your story?” She shuffled a little closer and I draped an arm about her shoulder comfortingly.

“Me,” I said thoughtfully, “not much to say about me really,” I admitted, I had never gone anywhere exciting, or really done anything awe inspiring, except maybe make friends of all the Avengers, but that was really more luck than anything I had ever done. 

Hannah continued to look at me expectantly though, so I decided to elaborate. “I was born and grew up in Australia, I have a little brother, his name is Samuel, we were raised by my grandparents, and my mum and dad were killed when I was little, I don’t remember them, but I think I would have like to. I came over to America for UNI, or college as the Americans call it, I got a partial scholarship in the music and fine arts track, but still needed to cover tuition, so I started looking for work. One day I found this tiny add, squashed in the back of the newspaper, it read,   
‘Wanted: One house keeper; must be able to cook, and clean-up after very messy person on large premises, unobtrusively.”   
“So I applied for the job, sent in my resume with a polite letter requesting that if the employer had any questions, that they were welcome to call and speak to me any time convenient.” 

I shrugged and grinned at Hannah, “Two days later I got a call at three forty in the morning, which turned out to be a very blearily remembered phone interview, I must have passes because two days later I received an E-mail requesting conformation for my personal interview for the position of, get this, ‘home environment and upkeep of residential premises executive manager and supervisor.’ Which I had no notion of meaning, but I went anyway, and that’s where I met Miss Patricia Potts, and apparently passed the interview with flying colours. So that’s what I’ve been doing ever since.”

Hannah shook her head in bewilderment. “You mean to tell me that you answered an obscurer little add in the paper, and wound up keeping house for a billionaire, genius, super hero? And you don’t think that there is much to say about you.” She huffed disbelievingly. “Really, you don’t see how that could make you, I don’t know, a little unique?”

I raised a brow at her, I could see what she was getting at, I did, but, to be honest, I had never set out to astound, or to make it into the city’s cool click, I had just wanted a job that paid more than asking people ‘if they wanted chips with that.’ 

That I had wound up working for the ostentatious genius, well I could never have predicted that, nobody could have, (unless you had some odd future seeing mutation I supposed) but the fact was that I had, and then made friends with him and the rest of my Avengers.

I sighed, “It wasn’t like that; Tony didn’t even know that he had a housekeeper for nearly five years.”   
Hanna frowned, “You mean he never met you before you started working for him?”   
I gave a huff, “I met him once before I started working for him, if you can call it ‘meeting’ he was at an art gala, and I was there with my University, Tony stumbled over to where I was standing, threw up in the pot plant beside me, then turned to me and said I had a nice hat.”

Hannah’s brows shot up in shock. “Ereh, at least he complemented your hat; that was, nice I guess…”   
I arched a brow “I wasn’t wearing a hat.”   
Hannah blinked, “I…I don’t get it.” she said, confusion written on her pretty features.   
A rueful smile tilted across my mouth. “Tony, he’s changed a lot in the last few years. After what happened in the cave in Afghanistan, and with Manhattan, it changed him, the man you met as part of the Avengers is not the same man that I started working for six years ago.”

Hannah peered at me with a sad green eye. “I know what that’s like, maybe not the kidnapped to a cave part, but I know how a single event can change you beyond measure, I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”  
Her face seemed guarded, and her manner stiff, something had happened to Hannah that made her the woman she was today, a woman that could go head to head with any one of the avengers and bend them to her healing will. I was grimly grateful to whatever that part of Hannah that had not bowed over in the change of what even had changed her, and instead had fought to create anew her life. It meant that she had become part of the Avenger team, and was prepared to care for the people around her.

The door to our cell gowned as it opened revealing a well-dressed man in a charcoal grey suit. He was lean and impeccably groomed. In that moment I discovered that cruelty had a look, and it was polished in designer clothes. Hannah rose smoothly to her feet in a flex of toned muscle and trained grace. I followed, stiffly and without much elegance at all, courtesy of my cold and bruised muscles.  
“ladies, I see that you have made yourself at home in our little abode, how nice, if you would be so kind as to follow me, then we will not have to shoot either of you, which would be needlessly messy and wasteful, don’t you think.” 

His accent lilted softly, his voice was smooth as an oiled blade and I suppressed a shudder as I obeyed his silkily clad threat. Hannah strode before me, and I admired her stubborn refusal to cower, because really, it was tempting, the cowering. 

We were lead down a dully lit corridor, and honestly I was a little disappointed in in how cliché their base of evil was. Because really, dimly lit corridors, please, that was so last century, they really should have been going for something that looked sleek and high tech.   
That would have intimidated me.   
As it was, I just really wanted to change the bulbs in the place, and give it a good cleaning.   
I may have been a stress cleaner.  
We were lead to a room that was only slightly better lit than the corridor, and directed to sit on one side of a cheap chipboard and steal frame table, while our sleek guide sat on the other facing us. He lent back in his chair, confident in his control of the situation, regarding us both with unfriendly eyes. 

I watched Hannah carefully out the comer of my eye, waiting for her prompt on the situation. She was after all more experienced in these matters than I. She sat back in her chair, just enough not to seem challenging but with enough presents to call an amount of respect to her. 

I adopted the face I used when faced with someone that I was obligated to pay attention to, but was not really interested in. I sat back in the chair, crossed my knees, laced my fingers over my stomach and gazed back at our captor with blank indifference.

“I suppose you will be wondering why you have been brought here, yes.” His voice was just as cool and controlled as before, but now there was a patronising pitch to it, as if he thought us retarded. Neither of us gratified him with a response. He arched a brow at us and continued. “You are here because your friends and superiors have been meddling in things that they should have left alone, now we must make that clear to them, and you, unfortunately for your heath, will help us drive home that point.”

A razor blade of a smile slid across his face, and he lent forward into our space, trying to intimidate us. Hannah didn’t move at all, but I figured I could mess with him a bit, not aggressively, but enough to try and catch who we were dealing with.   
I leant forward minutely towards him, purposefully angling my body to suggest friendly interest but not welcoming.   
His gaze flicked over to me, and two quick blinks showed that he had been surprised by the action.   
So, he understood body language well, that meant he was probably trained in interrogation; It would make lying to him harder. I would have to try to do most of the talking if it could be managed; Hannah was too expressive and honest to deceive people well.

Not that it was exactly my cup of tea, but I could beat Pepper and Tony at poker, and they had been in the people reading business for years, so that had to count for a few things. Natasha and Clint had taught me a few things too. 

The man tapped his index finger on the grungy, dubiously stained table and widened his smile till it looked slightly maniacal. Hannah’s fingers tightened briefly before the relaxed again in a way that made me think that under her composed mask, she was seething and raring for a fight. It was my guess that when push came to shove, in a fight, Hannah preferred to punch.

With his crazy smile still in place, the interrogator spoke again. “However, before we send you off as messengers, we have friends that think you could know some useful things about those you work for, you will answer our questions, or things will be worse that you could have ever imagined.”

Looking at the man, I realised this was worse than facing down the Hulk, he at least had been a wild sort of chaos, neither good, nor evil really, like a wolf or a tiger. But this man, he was evil, and clever, he was going to hurt Hannah and me, even if we did cooperate, and he was probably looking forward to it. 

‘Well’, said a dry little voice in the back of my head, ‘it would be just your luck to wind up in the clutches of an intelligent villain, a stupid villain would mean you might actually have a chance of getting out in one piece.’ 

“Very well,” I said blandly “ask your questions then.” I gestured for him to begin.   
The man’s lips curled up menacingly and he gave a black laugh. “You surprise me Madam, most people at least attempt to protect their friends and keep their secrets, you seem remarkably quick to comply.”  
I matched his laugh with a dark one of my own. “Most people would be better trained than I, or more foolish, I am not trained for this, and I am not foolish, so ask your questions sir, and I will answer.”

Our interrogator regarded me closely, out of the corner of my eye I could see Hannah doing the same, as she tried to figure out what I what playing at. Probably confused at how quickly I had changed my tune form wanting to protect my friends, to handing over their secrets and lives on a platter. But I had to hope that she was fast enough to catch on to the fact that I was trying to buy us time, trying to protect the people I loved even as I spoke. 

But Hannah’s face was a mask, and I could only guess at what she was thinking or planning, hoping that it would work with what I was planning.

The Russian lent back in his chair, he tapped his fingers on the rests of the chair and quiet a long moment. “I think I like you, Miss…?” he stopped and raised a brow at me, as if honestly expecting for me to fill in the information of my name.   
I kept my face blank and calm, “Miss East, Hester East.” I wondered for a moment if he would believe me, if he already knew who I was and was just testing to see if I would speak to them truthfully. I really hoped not, or this whole thing would be a bust, a bad one, of the Jarvis referring to me by my first name kind.

The interrogator smiled smoothly, there was something a little different this time, it took the tiniest twitches of amusement from Hannah for me to work out why. He was trying to flirt with me; the murderous interrogator was trying to seduce me.   
Of course he was… 

The first person who flirts with me in two years, and he’s a villainess criminal bent on world domination and murdering me after our little tee-a-tee. 

I really wanted to bang my head on the table a few times out of shear furious irritation at the whole thing. But that would have really killed my mask of calm, composed, indifference, so I reframed.   
It was a close call though.

Instead I let a brow arch up slowly as I met his mellifluous smile with a cool curl of my own lips. Clint had told me that when I gave him that smile he could never figure out whether I was playing with him, or I wanted to smash his head into the nearest hard surface. So I figured that it might confuse the Russian at least as much as it did the archer.  
(Truthfully, sometimes I had no idea either when it came to Clint.)

‘’Miss East, now that we have agreed to conduct ourselves in a civilised manner, let us begin, so long as your friend has the same sensible idea in mind.”  
Hannah’s voice was dead when she spoke; the utter lack of traceable emotion on her face, and tone was frightening.   
“Believe me sir, if I was opposed to Hester’s opinion, I would have said so by now, please, do go on.” 

The Russians eyes flicked back and forth between the two of us. If I didn’t know better, I’d say we unnerved him a little with our utter lack of hysterical traumatised reactions, and perceived disloyalty. Oh good, that would mean we were throwing him off balance. 

“Good, good; now, our information tells us that you, Miss East, are involved with Mister Stark and are his live in mistress, by that one might imagine that you know a great deal about how his armour operates.”  
I nearly choked on my own tongue.   
Tony and me! Me, his mistress.   
EEEEWWW that would have been like making out with my brother, only that brother was my best friend, boss, and as closest to male version of me as I have ever come across; or likely ever would. That was just wrong on so, so, many elaborate levels. 

“Mister Villain,” I managed in a glacial tone, “I am not Mister Stark’s mistress, I am his housekeeper, and as such, I have no idea how his armour operates, perhaps you might ask questions that are not so insulting in my last hours alive.”

Mister Villain, as I had dubbed him, striated in his chair. “You mean to tell me that you are not involved in the interment workings of the Avenger team?”

I smiled at the Russian. “Not at all sir, I am very intimately involved in their workings as a team, I feed them, I clean up after them and I do their washing. Have you ever thought how intimate it is to wash someone’s personals, I’d say that it’s pretty intimate, wouldn’t you?”

Hannah’s face was blank, but I was getting an overall sense of amusement from her direction.

The Russian stared at me and blinked a few times. “Their personals?” He asked, seeming wary of what I might have meant.   
I forced my face to remain clear and unaffected.   
“Yes, their personals, as in their underwear. We tried to get a wash lady to come and do it, but everyone’s clothes went missing far too often, and then when we looked into it, we found out that the wash lady was stealing their clothes and selling it on E-bay, which was really embarrassing for the team, so she had to go, nobody wanted a repeat experience of that, so I have to do all of the washing, at least until we work out a way to put, ‘will not sell employers underwear on any form of social media, web auction, public auction, private sale, free exchange, trade, or swap.’ In an employee contract, which is harder than you would think apparently, personally I am not sold on the whole thing, I think it’s just that they like how I use lavender and peppermint wash soap, which I make up myself, because I am allergic to just about every soap that is on the market and can and will come up in a rash that is just plain itchy and irritating.”

I waved a hand vaguely about as I spoke, keeping the interrogators bewildered gaze on me, until it was too late for him to do anything about Hannah.

Hannah had been slowly slumping in her chair and leaning to the left, towards the nearest guard while I had held the rooms attention, abruptly she threw her weight to the side she was leaning and tucked her limbs around her, rolling with the steel chair as a shield, she popped up to her feet in front of the nearest guard, and using the momentum of her roll she pitched in to him, flinging the chair at the man beside him in the same instant.

I dove across the table and preformed a tight tuck roll that Natasha had taught me away from the action. (I would have just gotten in the way.) Hannah spring to her feet, but kept her gravity low.   
The man she had flung the chair at was struggling to his feet, a gash across his head leaking into his eye, and obscuring his vision. Hannah darted to his weaker side, and delivered two sharp, anatomically perfect, blows to his kidneys. 

The man grunted with pain and bowed over, giving Hannah a clear at his exposed neck. Without premise Hannah slammed her elbow into the muscle covered nerves just between his spine and collar bone.   
He went down like a sack of dropped potatoes. 

“DOWN!!!” I screamed when I spotted our interrogator, who had slipped to the side of the room level a gun at the Doctor. Hannah wasted no time; throwing herself to the ground, she rolling away from the fired shots. She came up swinging, having got a hold of one of the menacing looking batons that the Russians had been sporting at their sides.

She knocked the gun from Mr Villain’s hand and in the same move, smashed her elbow into his face forcing him back away from the fallen weapon. He howled in pain briefly before Hannah bludgeoned the end of the baton to his temple rendering him unconscious.

Hannah stood panting for a moment, tension quivering through her muscles like a wild creature. She turned to me, eyes wide and frightened. “I think I’m getting good at hurting people…” Her voice was a harsh rasp, betraying her distress over her actions. 

I rose from where I was crouched in the corner and shook my head as I came towards her. “No, Hannah, you can’t do this right now, you can’t. We don’t have time for it. Later, when we are all ok, you, me, and the Avengers, we can both deal with this, because then it will be safe to, and there will be pliantly of chocolate and Jane Austin moves to help, but at this present time, we need to find a way out of here.”

Hannah swallowed and nodded, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin defiantly. “Your right, I can have a mental crises later, when we have time for it, and chocolate, lots of chocolate, but right now, we need out, grab a gun.”

I grabbed three guns, and four knifes.

What,   
I was pretty good at throwing knifes;   
just ask Thor about that time that he managed to break every piece of china that was in the kitchen.   
And what I did about it….

I turned to the door of the room, and jiggled at the handle uselessly. “It’s locked,” I said with a frown, trying to figure out a way to open the lock. I move over to the unconscious guard that had been closes to the door. “Maybe one of them had the key, help me search them.” I stared rifling in the enormous Russians pockets when a gunshot had me spinning about to face the door again.  
I stared at the door, then at Hannah, and then at the blown out lock.   
“Or,” I said dryly “we could just shoot the damn thing into oblivion.”

Hannah grinned and winked with her good eye. “I like the way you think Miss East.” She swung the door open and waited a moment checking to see if anyone came charging through. When nobody did, she peered cautiously out, and then moved quickly down the hall, with me following close behind.  
I looked about carefully, watching for exits and other attackers. We seemed to be in some kind of gutted factory or warehouse, not that I had much experience with either of those structures, but that’s what it looked like.

“This way.” Said Hannah in a low voice as she motioned to a small side door that across an open space on the floor of the building.   
“Wait!” I hissed setting my hand on the Doctors arm. I stood close to her and pointed across at the door, set across from each other on the four points of the frame, were tiny rust coloured dots that were to smooth to have been part of the dilapidated structure. 

“Point lasers, Tony showed me some, ages ago now, they were marked among the tech that Obadiah Stain sold on the Black market, those little gizmos will set off explosives if they are disturbed.”   
Hannah let out a gush of a breath and looked down at me. “You know, I am really glad that I got kidnaped with someone useful.” 

“Sure,” I chirped quietly, “No problem, I would have hated to let you blow-up, Steve would never have forgiven me.”   
Hannah frowned. “What, who?”   
I snapped my mouth shut, and changed the subject very quickly.   
“So I seem to recall Tony saying that they scraped the laser project because it had the major fault of not being able to detect the shortening of distance from the collating laser on the opposite side.”  
As I talked we made our cautious way over to the door, making sure to keep watch for any unwanted company.

“So what does that mean for us?” asked Hanna with interest.   
“Well” I said thoughtfully “we could try moving the lasers closer together. That should give us room to duck under and get out the door.” Hannah nodded and began to edge her way over to the door cautiously. She examined the lasers carefully before turning to and asking, “How do we move the lasers without disturbing them?”

I shrugged unhelpfully. “I have no idea, I was being honest when I said that I had no idea who Tony makes things work, I just trust they do, because he is Tony, and he makes things.”   
Hannah gave a huff, and turned back to the door. “Well that’s greatly unhelpful, I guess we will just to give it a shot and hope for the best, and pray that they are not hooked up to explosives.” 

I nodded solemnly, focusing my hopeful will on not having the lasers hooked up to explosives. Hannah reached up very carefully to the top set of devices. They were attached to the door via a very strong magnet, designed to be set up in a battle field, so no screws, she began to slide them down very slowly; angling them to them so that the red line never broke form the collating one on the other end.  
We both breathed a sigh of relief when the first set was moved and we were all in one piece. The second set was a little more difficult. The door frame was buckled and warped just enough that the laser broke contact with the partnered device. 

Our breath caught in our throats as we waited to explode into a million fiery particles. The blaring sound of an alarm snapped us out of our frozen terror. “Well,” I said dryly as six burly Russians burst into the hanger, “on the bright side of this, we are not exploded, merely discovered.” 

“RUN!” cried Hannah as she threw open the door, not caring about the other lasers, and dashed out into the open. I hurried behind her. It might have worked, given how our luck had held out so far, but for the fact that we had no idea where we were going, and the Russians did. It didn’t take long for them to corner us, herding us like a cruel game of cat and mouse.

We wound up running out into an open loading dock of some kind, hemmed in from all sides by burly Russian minions. Hannah looked about with keen eyes, searching for an escape, while I leaned on my knees gasping for breath like a fish out of water, my previous belief that I was fairly well in shape utterly demolished. 

The crowd of minions parted, and Mr Villain came strutting out, a vicious curl to his lips. “Well that was such fun, and it shall never happen again, you are not so useful to us after all damy (Ladies) so now I will kill you.”

The man gestured, a graceful flick of his fingers, and two men prowled towards us. Hannah straitened into a fighting stance, but they had her measure now, and were prepared when she lashed a stinging cross cut at the man approaching her. He copped the strike to his jaw, and used it to get hold of Hannah before she could get out of range again. He yanked her towards him, using his greater strength and weight to his advantage. Hannah screamed her fury and pain as the guard grabbed a fistful of her hair and kicked her feet out from under her, forcing her to her knees, a gun to her head.

The guard that seized me had no real fight on his hands, I was sad to say. I was not trained, not even a little, and I was not prepared for the smashing pain and ringing in my ears as the man slapped me open-handed to the ground. 

I tried to scramble away, which earned me a kick to my ribs, and sent me heaving into the dirt, the taste of blood filling my mouth from my split lip and bleeding nose. A pair of meticulous shoes filled my tear fuzzy vision. I looked up into the face of Mr Villain. 

He was grinning manically, eyes dancing with twisted joy. “Poor Doctor,” he crooned as he regarded Hannah where she kneeled, tears gleaming in her eyes, but stubbornly held back. “How you must hate me for harming your little friend, you worked so hard to protect her when we got you here. You even managed to knife one of my men. That had surprised me, I really should have seen this little escapade coming, but I thought that you wanted to die swiftly. Now of course, we shall have to drag things out, oh how you must hate me.”

“I don’t hate you, I think that would be a waste of my energy, but I certainly don’t like you, that’s for sure.” Hannah hissed in contained fury. Her green eyes narrowed to a daggered glare. Mr Villain gave a crazy-pants, silky laugh. “What do you really mean by that I wonder Doctor?” He reached into his fabulously tailored suit and produced some kind of menacing looking handgun, and started to examine it, checking the clip, and then flicking the safety off.

“I’m just saying, if you had a paper cut, I’d dress it in salt and then bath it in lemon juice for you.” Said Hannah, earning herself a nasty yank form her captor that made her wince in pain. “How very creative of you.” Purred Mr Villain “and what about you, Miss East, what do think of this, I suppose you are wishing that you had never taken that job as housekeeper to the hero team, hmm, then you would be all safe and sound somewhere not here.” 

I struggled to a slumped kneeling crouch, clutching my ribs against the stabbing pain that radiated from them. “No.” I said flatly.

Mr Villain blinked at me. “What?” He asked genuinely confused. I gazed up at him, my eyes cold and hard as frosted diamonds.   
“I would never wish that, nothing you could ever do would make me sorry that I made the decisions that I did, but I know for certain, that you are going regret ever harming a single hair on our heads, maybe, if you hadn’t hurt us, you would get off alive, but you won’t now, you hurt me, you hurt Hannah, and no matter where you go, or who you make allies out of, there are people that will find you, and they will end you, if you’re lucky.” 

Pure rage flashed across his face. “You, I was going to take my time with you, but I think that I would prefer to see your brains spread across the ground now.” He spat the words, fury making his smooth accent turn harsh and grating.

He levelled the gun at my head. I stared up the barrel at him, hoping that the tiny flash of colour on the horizon had been what I thought it was, and if not, that being shot in the head, really was as quick as all the books and movies said it was.

The shield came out of seemingly nowhere. One moment, there had been an enormous burly Russian pinning Hannah to ground, and forcing her to watch the proceedings by gripping the hair on her head, the next there was a dull ‘gong’ as a red, silver and blue vibranium shield spun across the loading square and smashed into the minion, ricocheting back to the owner, who stood on top of one of the warehouse roofs.

Natasha dropped down from the opposite side of the square, and began to viciously demolish the men about her, in a blur of red and black. Twisting, kicking, and striking like the terrifying assassin that she was. The metallic hum of repulsor fire filled the air as Tony dropped from the sky, blasting back any advancing forces. Thor appeared from a swath of wreathing enemies swinging his hammer and bellowing a battle cry that was filled with rage and power. Chaos had erupted, and none of the enemy forces were prepared to deal with a team of vengeful Avengers.

Hannah took advantage of the pandemonium and leapt for the gun pointed at my head, just in time. The shot fired, missing me mostly, only nicking my shoulder. There was a brief scuffle as Hannah attempted to use her limited training to disarm Mr Villain. But Hannah was injured, and mostly blind on one side by her black eye, she didn’t really stand a chance against the more skilled man, when the element of surprise was not with her. 

She lost her footing and was thrown to the ground with a cry of pain. Mr Villain levelled his gun at her, I scrambled forward, ignoring the stabbing pain in my ribs in my effort to save her. I reached forward and yanked his footing out from under him, sending him sprawling to the muddy ground.

Hannah stumbled over and tried to wrestle the gun from the Russians grasp, while I attempted to pin him. He twisted sharply on the ground and dislodged me, bringing the weapon around to clock Hannah in the head, in much the same way she had him earlier.

Hannah dropped dazed to the ground. Reinforcements had arrived for the Russians, and were pouring out from the warehouses, armed with strange bulky machinery that shot some kind of electrical charge.   
Steve, Natasha and Thor were fighting back to back, surrounded by guards on all sides, not hampered in any way by lack of skill, but by sheer mass of numbers as they tried to desperately make their way across to us. Tony was flying overhead trying to clear a path with his Repulsor fire, and draw the attention of the energy shooters away from the ground team.   
Things were looking grim.

 

Then the ground shuddered, and Hulk ripped his way through the wall of the warehouse on the right side of the square. His roar shook the air and literally knocked those closest to him to the ground.   
“Hulk!” shouted Steve above the fray, “Get the girls.” Hulk looked about, he spotted were Hannah and I crouched wounded on the ground, and all of a sudden looked even angrier than before, if that was at all possible, which it was, judging by what he did next, which was totally decimate anything and everything around him as he made his rapid way over.

Mr Villain, had gotten to his feet by now, and made a strangled noise of fear at the sight of the GIANT GREEN MAN OF RAGE coming his way. I saw his eyes flick to me and guessed what he was planning to do in order to save his hide. I dodged his first grasping swing but the sharp pain in my ribs made me gasp and falter, my lack of flued movement making his second clawing clutch a success.   
His fingers tangle in my mattered hair, and I was hauled to my feet with a little involuntary scream. I scrabbled feebly at his hand trying to get free, only to have him shake me like a rag-doll. I felt metal against my face as Mr Villain frantically screamed that he would shoot me if the Hulk came any closer.   
I knew he would too. 

Hulk drew himself up, anger radiating from his every muscle. He roared, making the air tremble, readying himself to barrel forward. The metal of the gun pressed sharply into my head. I could hear Steve shouting at Hulk to fall back, that he had to, or that I would be harmed, but Hulk didn’t look like he was listening. His muscles bunched, ready to spring. I had to stop him, or I was about to end up with a fast ticket to the afterlife.

“Hulk,” I called, my voice wavered a little, I swallowed, and tried to force a calm I didn’t feel. “Hi.” I tried again, my voice steadier. “been a while, how you been?” Hulk remained tense, but shifted his weight back a little, not immediately intending to pounce.   
“HULK MAD!” said hulk crossly.   
“Why’s that.” I asked curiously. Why was I curious, I thought vaguely, I should not have been curious, I should have been screaming hysterically, why was I not screaming hysterically, oh that was right. I had to keep calm, to keep Hulk, calm…calm-ish, for a GIANT GREEN RAGE MAN.

“HULK MAD BECAUE BAD MAN HURT YOU! YOU NOT FOR HURTING, YOU FOR NICE THINGS, NOW HULK WILL SMASH PUNY BAD MAN! EVEN BANNER SAY SMASH!” 

Mr Villain jabbed the gun into my head hard, making me wince and he hissed at me. “Shut up, shut up now, I will kill you, I will blow your head off!”  
He was crazy, very crazy, he had lost, and there was no getting out of it. But then I figured, villains were probably those kids that had been sore losers, and just had never gotten over their nastiness of school bullying.

Hulk snarled and made to move forward. “Hulk no!” I said trying to make my voice firm and commanding, ‘think Steve’, a mantra in the back of my head. “You have to step back, you have to give him space, it will be all right, he won’t hurt me.”

I stared hard into the green man’s eyes, willing him to understand what I meant, hoping he would trust me, and the others on the team. Hulk shuffled back reluctantly, growling darkly all the while. “That’s right, you great brute,” snarled the Russian, “move back and I won’t blow the girls head.”

Mr Villain, thought that I had been talking about him, that he needed space, that he wouldn’t hurt me if Hulk moved back, well, he had just got that ALL sorts of WRONG.

One Avenger was missing from the count. Tony hovered above watching the proceedings and relaying new information through the comms, while Steve, Natasha and Thor stood near Hulk, keeping an eye out for any sneak attacks. 

Clint was nowhere to be seen. Which made me sure that he was watching me right now. From where, I had no idea, but I knew he was, because that was what Clint did. He hid, watched, and waited for his shot. His shot, that would be near impossible for anyone else.

I took a shuddering breath, and let it out slow. “Clint.” I breathed softly, mostly mouthing the words, “You never miss so I won’t even say don’t, but if you wouldn’t mind getting this over with, that would be good.” 

I waited, time stretched, nothing happened, but I wasn’t afraid. Mr Villain was trying to negotiate his escape. Yammering about how he would destroy the Avengers; that they hadn’t even begun to scratch the surface of what was going on, but that if they got out the way, he might just drop a hint.  
And then there was a dull pop above me, a few spatters of blood on my cheek and Mr Villain toppled back, dead.   
I stood there frozen, until the trembling kicked in, I went to look over my shoulder at the body of my captor on automatic, to make sure that he was dead, that he couldn’t hurt me, a genital hand on my face stopped me. 

It was Natasha; she stood in front of me, face grim. “Don’t, don’t Look Helen, you don’t need to see that.” Her voice was soft, but firm, as she guided me away from the carnage.   
Tony landed beside us. “Cap’s getting the Doc, Clint says that SHIELD are going to deal with the clean-up, so we can get these two out of here.”   
“I’m on-board with that plan.” I said in a weirdly dead voice.   
Steve appeared on my left; Hannah carefully cradled, bridle style, in his arms. She was awake, but seemed to be a bit out of it. She stared up at him with wide slightly unfocused eyes, or eye, being that one was badly swollen. 

“I,” she said in a singsong voice, “have a concussion, mild abrasions, and bruising to the face.” Steve looked sadly down at her, his blue, blue eyes full of concern.   
“Yeah, I can see that, but you’ll be alright now, I won’t, I mean we, we won’t let them get you again, not if we can help it.”

Hannah blew a raspberry at Captain America. “That was silly, of course you would stop them if you could help it, the problem is when you can’t…that’s why Clint throws tennis balls at me.”  
We all looked at her in confusion.   
“What?” asked Steve after a moment of trying to figure that out, and failing.   
Hannah graced him with a dazzling, dopy, smile. “You’re pretty.” She sighed and snuggled into his wonderful chest.

Steve blushed, opened his mouth, and shut it a few times before going into Captain America mode. “The quinjet will be here in a moment, we should get Helen and Hannah out of here, and to the extract point.”   
“Yay.” Sang Hannah from the depths of Steve’s armoured pictorials.   
Things sort of got fuzzy memory wise after that. I was operating entirely on genital nudges from my friends and numb autopilot instinct.   
At some point while on the quinjet, Hannah crawled out of Steve’s arms and found a medical kit. Even in her concussed, half out of it mode, she was a good Doctor, even if she was singing drunkenly all the while. She carefully went about and tended to me, and then each of the Avengers. After she had finished she went back over to Steve and climbed up onto his lap, telling him that he smelt nice and was all warm and cosy. 

Steve didn’t seem to mind.

Somewhere over the North Pacific Ocean I fell asleep, I woke again when the jet touched down on the Helli-carriers deck. “Hi,” said Clint softly as I blinked up at him from where my head rested on his thigh. I smiled up at him, then wished I hadn’t, because my lip split again. I winced and sat upright, groaning as stiff bruised muscles protested to the motion.

Clint gave me a long look as I struggled to right myself, clutching at my damaged ribs, before stepping forward and gently gathering me in his arms, and lifting me from the ground. I gave a token wine of protest, and then slumped in his arms to resume semi consciousness.

I was vaguely aware that we were moving, but to be honest I was having trouble focusing. I gave a start as the booming voice of Nick Fury carried down metal halls, making my ribs scream foul play, and burn with stabbing agony. A dry, ragged sob burst from my lips.   
Arguments burst out around me, which were all cut off by a soft, deep voice over them all.  
“I whole heartedly agree with the Doctor, neither of them are fit to be interrogated by your people, as they are, and won’t be for a while, so you’re just going to have deal with that for a time, because if you try anything with either of them, Nick, then I will be very upset with you, you wouldn’t like that.” 

It was Dr Banner, I wasn’t sure what was going on, frankly I didn’t care, just so long as the stabbing pain in my side stopped sometime soon. That would be lovely. Clint’s voice came from right beside my ear, and it took me a moment to remember why that was, oh yes, that was because I was flopped in his arms like a drugged out koala, that’s right.   
“Bruce can take the girls down to medical, the rest of us could go to debrief, he doesn’t remember what the other guy does anyway, so it’s not like he really has to be there, that way these two have someone they know with them.”

Out the corner of my eye I could see Steve nodding. “That could work, all right, Tony has already sent his report in while he was flying over. He could help bring them over to medical, so if you pass Helen over to him, Bruce can keep an eye on the Doctor. 

“No,” said Bruce quickly. “Hannah needs someone to talk to her keep her alert, we need to keep an eye on her mental state, Tony’s a better talker than I am, I’ll carry Helen so that he has his arms free to chase her down if she does a mad dash again, and tries to steel Fury’s eye patch again.”

“Good thinking Banner,” said Tony as he swaggered over, sans the armour now. He reached out and ran the tips of his work calloused fingers gently over my cheek, as he asked tenderly. “Hi’a bright eyes, how you doing?” I blinked at him, fighting back the waves of pain caused nausea that occurred when I breathed. 

“I’ve been better.” I said philosophically. His smile was all sadness and affection.   
“Yeah, you have, but you’ll be all right in the end, we’ll see to it.” He lent forward and brushed a whisper kiss on my forehead.

He straightened up, and made his way over to the Doctor, where she was staring threateningly at Fury’s eye patch with unnerving intensity, fingers twitching sporadically, all the while edging closer to the director.   
Tony looped an arm around her shoulders and started to guide her down the hall, chattering at her in a constant rampage of questions that he prompted her to answer.

Bruce moved closer to Clint and tried to take me form him without jostling me. I gave a sad little strangled cry as my ribs were knocked in the transfer, making Bruce stiffen briefly, and fall into a soft croon of comforting words, until I settled against his shoulder and chest.

I tucked my face into the space between his neck and shoulder breathing in the scent of him. He smelt warm like dusk in summer, with a rich earthy undertone, like river stones and rainforest, with just a touch of leather. It was comforting and oddly familiar, until I realised that Hulk had smelt the same all those long months ago in Manhattan.

I reached up carefully, and threaded my fingers through his silky dark curls at the base of his neck. I wasn’t sure if I imaged it, but I thought for a moment that his breath hitched softly.   
“Thank you.” I said quietly after a moment of him walking down the halls, agents stepping hurriedly out of his way.  
“For what?” he asked gently.   
“For coming to get us, I know that you don’t really like Hulk, don’t like letting him out, but he really did help, so thank you, for giving him that chance, for giving yourself that chance, to help your friends, and save our lives.”

A soothing hand swept over my back, easing some of the tension that had gathered there. “I should be thanking you, you’re the one he listens to. It’s strange, when the other guy is out, I just sort of, disappear. I don’t really remember anything, flashes sometimes, but not much else, but, but when your around, it’s like, there’s more of me in him, I remember things, he likes you.”   
He chuckled softly, careful not to jolt me. “You are something else Helen West, that’s for sure.” 

I lifted my head and peeked at him. “Is that a good thing?” I asked. “I mean, you’re not going to go all King Kong on me are you, kidnap me and climb to the top of the empire state, I don’t think that Fury would be impressed, Tony, friend of ours that he is, would find it hilarious though.”

This time I got a true laugh out of the quiet Doctor. It was warm and soft, and I felt proud for managing it. I settled back onto his shoulder and started to drift into a pain induced haze; but before I really floated off, I could have sworn I heard Bruce’s velvety voice whisper “No promises.”

 

{:oOo:}

 

The medical examination was, no fun, at all.

The doctors poked and prodded, quizzed and questioned, disinfected and stitched all that they could, before pronouncing that I was not in grave danger of keeling over dead. I could have told them that right off, when they had poked my apparently fractured ribs, because believe me, I felt alive when they did that; dead people don’t feel pain. I felt it in great scream inducing bouts.

Bruce hung about, looking unhappy whenever the doctor did something to make me flinch, wince or emote in anyway really. In the end I took pity on him and asked him to see how Hannah and Tony were doing. He didn’t look happy about it but went anyway.  
After that I was instructed to rest, which I did gladly. It was Natasha that came to get me and take me to the quinjet.   
“Hannah says she has to stay overnight for observation, because the scans that Tony ran on her said that she had a hairline fracture on the left hand side of her cranium, her words not mine. She also said that you should go home where you‘ll be more comfortable, and that she will see you tomorrow to check in, because she would rather look you over when she’s not loopy, apparently she claims dib’s on you as a patient.” 

“Sounds fair to me.” I said, levering myself off of the stiff hospital bed with Natasha’s Help.   
Since I had no idea how to get to the top deck to board the quinjet Natasha stuck around and played guide for the trip. It was sort of funny to see how all of the SHIELD agents ducked out of her way with comical speed, one of them even dove into a side room to NOT be in the way of the advancing assassin. 

Thor was waiting at the Jet, looking regal and concerned. “Lady Helen, how fair you, your wounds are not of grave concern?”   
I smiled up at the Asgardian, reached over and squeezed his hand gently, hoping to alleviate the fear that I was about to cark-it. “I’m alright, a little banged up but nothing a few weeks rest won’t fix, are you here to see me home?” 

Thor smiled at me, relief showing in his striking eyes. “Verily I am my dear friend, those of us who dwell upon the sky-ship would rest easier knowing that you have been seen safely to your dwelling.” I felt relieved; I really did not feel like wondering around the mansion, trying to assess the safety of the place. I would much rather take a giant, blond, Norse god home with me instead. 

The ride down was pretty uneventful; thankfully. I felt that I was over my adventure quota for the moth, so was keen not to have any more any time soon. Thor told me on the tip over, that SHIELD had cleaned the place up, and that Pepper had made sure to have the glass replaced and anything broken fixed, or replaced. That made me feel better, I didn’t want to come back to a war zone, Pepper had got that, and made sure that I wouldn’t. 

As it turned out, as soon as Thor had cleared the door to the mansion, Pepper flung herself at me and engulfed me in a rather tearful hug. I hugged back as best I could with fractured ribs. Thor stood by and smiled, then suggested that we get something to eat. I was fully up with that idea, I was starving, but hadn’t realised until Thor said something about it.   
So that was how I wound up sitting wedged between Stark industries CEO and the god of thunder eating Chinese takeaway and watching Calamity Jane. All in all not a bad way to spend an evening, after rescue form a villainess organization. 

Tony turned up later in the evening, assuring us that Hannah would be fine and was rather mortified by her behavior while concussed, now that she was coming out of it. Poor thing, but at least she got to snuggle with Steve, who I thought, would be not at all sorry about the Doctors behavior.

 

{:oOo:}

 

True to her word, Hannah came by the next day and rechecked my ribs, and stitches from where the bullet grazed me. I think it was only supposed to be a quick stop by, but I didn’t like to be alone so convinced her to stay longer. Tony had stayed at the mansion, but he was down in his workshop tinkering with some new gizmo.   
It was good to have Hannah about, she had been with me through everything, and so knew pretty well how I was feeling. We ended up in the lounge room eating peanut and chocolate biscuits, and playing board games. 

It was nice, and oddly normal. Sometime after lunch Clint appeared beside us and briskly informed us that he was playing too, and that it was his turn now. Natasha appeared shortly after, sitting opposite Clint, and demanded a new game, because she didn’t like the one we were playing, and we, wise people that we were, changed games. 

Steve arrived with Doctor Banner just before dinner; each of them presented Hannah and I with something to cheer us up while we recovered. Steve gave me a beautiful framed drawing of the whole team including me, and Doctor Banner gave me a bouquet of brightly coloured, fragrant flowers. Hannah got flowers and a box of chocolate from Steve, and a pleasant smelling bruise cream form Bruce.

The team continued to stop by intermediately for a good few weeks. One evening Natasha turned up at six in the evening, Hannah in tow. The Doctors eyes were red and glassy from crying, Natasha had her arm around her shoulders in quiet comfort. “We’re having a girl’s night in your room, like we did when your house got smooshed; Peppers coming over with chocolate in about five minutes.” 

I stepped aside and let them into my room, gesturing for them to climb onto the bed and make themselves comfortable. “What happened?” I asked gently.   
“We were in training, Clint and I, same as usual” said Hannah, voice raspy, “when all of a sudden something he said set me off, and I’m standing in the middle of the gym screaming at him that I hate his stupid training, and then I just sat down and cried.”   
She gave a wet giggle, and a sniff. “To be honest, I think that Clint nearly had a breakdown with me, he’s not use to crying women, women trying to kill him yes, but hysterical ones, not so much; especially when they’re friends.”

“I was sparing with Steve in the next room over and heard her yelling at him, so came over to see if I needed to punch him for being irritating, and found her sobbing on the floor, so I brought her here, and told Pepper to bring supplies.” Said Natasha as she rubbed Hannah’s back and snuggled into her, Hannah snuggled back.

There was a light knock at the door and Pepper entered, baring a shopping bag full of high-end gourmet chocolate and the reliable old Cadbury. There was also an assortment of chips, lollies, and tea.   
Pepper strode forward and flopped herself down on the enormous bed, kicked off her heels and crawled up to snuggle on Hannah’s other side. “What are we watching?” She asked easily.   
“Well,” I said as I scrolled through Jarvis’s movie banks. “I promised Hannah that when she had her breakdown; it would be with chocolate and Jane Austin movies.” I looked over my shoulder and smiled at Hannah, she smiled back, nose crinkling and dimples showing. “I’d say this counts as one, so, Hannah, your party, what’s your pick?”

Hannah’s smile looked a little stronger than moments before. “I say we watch the BBC version of pride and prejudice, that’s the best one.”   
“Ooh, good pick.” Said Pepper happily, Natasha hummed in agreement.   
“Sounds good to me.” I said flicking to the selected and indicating play, before climbing up on the bed with the rest of them. The night turned out to be such a success, that Natasha and Pepper decided that it should be a regular occurrence. So once a month, my room would be taken over by women, with or without my consent, not that I minded, and Hannah got dragged along, even if she claimed that she had work to do.   
Occasionally if one of us was having a really awful time, they were set up impromptu. 

So Hannah had unintentionally coined a tradition. We called them Breakdown nights.  
I didn’t have my breakdown until a month afterward.

It had started with a nightmare. I had woken form a dream of Mr Villain holding a gun to my head, but this time Hannah wasn’t there to save me by throwing his aim off, in the dream he shot me, but I didn’t die right off, so he just kept shooting me, laughing his crazy-pants laugh all the while.   
It was not pleasant to say the least.

I only woke up when I managed to thrash my way to the edge of the enormous bed and fall off. I struggled up from the floor clutching at my still healing ribs, sobbing and choking of the remembered taste of blood. I stumbled to the door of my room, and stagged out into the hall; still crying all the while. I made my way out into the lounge room, only to be met with the entire team, seated about with bowls of popcorn a game of Dictionary running. 

It must have been one of the nights that the ‘insomniacs assembled’, as I had dubbed it, came together.   
None of the Avengers, have what you would call regular sleeping hours, so sometimes they converge at the mansion to keep each other company. Hannah had recently joined the folds, Pepper had always been an honorary member, being forever jetting across the globe left her constantly readjusting to time zones. I generally had pretty regular sleep times so didn’t usually join in. 

The team looked up at me where I stood in the door, sobbing like a child. “Well,” Said Clint pragmatically “at least we don’t have to worry about this happening when no one is around to help deal with it.” Everyone made various noises of agreement.   
Tony came over to me and folded me into his arms speaking softly to me, trying to ease away my fears. “Hey bright eyes, it’s alright, this happens to everyone, just breath through it. That’s it, just like that.”   
He led me over to one of the couches and got me sit down between Steve and Bruce. I was surprised when the geneticists slipped an arm around my shoulders and gave me a steadying squeeze. Steve took my hand and petted the back of it, helping me shake off the last of the night terror. 

Hannah appeared in front of me and handed me a big mug of pear tea and a slab of cake.  
“Here,” She said warmly “this will help you stop shaking, you’re in a mild form of PTS, and your body is in shock, it’s pretty normal, so don’t get too worried about it.” I took the mug and set the plate on my lap before smiling up at her and thanking her with a watery smile.

The team went back to their game, but now including me, after a while I didn’t feel so shaken by the dream, and was able to enjoy myself. I could see that everyone was watching me, but not in a bad way, like I was a problem, but just in an effort to look after me. 

There were a few other incidence like that over the next five weeks, but they were milder each time, and there were always a few Avengers about the mansion for me to join so I didn’t feel frightened. They all helped in their own unique way. Clint told me funny stories, Natasha asked me to teach her to cook, so there was a few three am baking sessions, making breakfast rather interesting. Steve read aloud to me, his voice was deep and soothing, Thor taught me to dance, which was amazing, considering how big and accident prone he tends to be, but when Thor dances he is all grace and control.

Tony helped me deal with the dreams by dragging me down to the workshop whenever Jarvis informed him my bio readings were not matching regular sleep patterns recorded. He would chatter away to me, while occasionally demanding I fetch him a tool, or that I help him hold this or that in place. It was fun, and I was gradually learning what everything in his workshop was called. Sometimes Bruce was in the workshop too, he and Tony were science bro’s. Bruce was a quiet steady presence that made me feel grounded, safe, because I was pretty damn sure that nothing was going to get a hold of me with him in the room.

Not that I didn’t feel the same way about the others, because I did, they were all my knights in shining armour, or in Tony’s case, hot-rod red and gold. But I liked how steady Bruce was, how behind that steadiness was a depth of raw intensity unmatched. 

Hannah, Hannah I could talk with, about nothing and everything. She was happy and cheerful and made me feel more comfortable with needing the attention of the others. She told me about how she’d had nightmares too, and how Clint had broken into her quarters when he’d heard her screaming, woken her up, commanded she get dressed, then hauled her out to a quinjet and taken her for at two thirty in the morning icecream. It made it easier to let my team help, when I knew that I wasn’t the only one that was getting the attention. 

With time the nightmares faded, my ribs healed and I was able to get on with things again, I wasn’t changed, because I refused to let it change me, but I was more up to date SHIELD gossip (Clint);   
had gotten good at few new recipes (Natasha)   
was now waiting avidly for the next Rangers Apprentice book to come out (Steve)   
could get Tony out of a jammed piece of armour in in five mines flat. (That was actually thanks to Bruce.)   
Could dance like a pro (Thor)   
and was capable of talking with the most knowledgeable engineers and hold my own decently. (Tony)   
So I had done not to poorly out of this whole PTS thing. It turned out to quite a bit of fun truth be told.


End file.
